


war paint

by viii



Series: here comes this rising tide [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, Wizards, fili and kili are not related, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-08-09 18:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viii/pseuds/viii
Summary: Dwalin has lived for hundreds of years alone, only to find that his soulmate does exist - and it's the fox, it's Nori the vampire hunter, and he wants to see Dwalin dead. Dwalin has to either force Nori to see reason, or kill him first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to [young blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6836818). It will make a lot more sense if you read that one first. Also, more tags will be added as the story progresses, as to avoid spoilers!

**_ 1728 _ **

Dwalin is four years old the first time he realizes that he’s not like the other children that play around the manor, and that he is something to be ashamed of. The boys he tries to play with all have a mother and a father, and their parents aren’t sneered at, and called nasty names. Their parents are still servants, just like Dwalin’s mum, but unlike her, they are given better opportunities, while Dwalin and his mum are left behind. 

For some reason, Dwalin himself is also treated bad, and he can’t figure that one out, either. He’s only four years old, and he’s not sure what he could have possibly done to deserve anything from them. He doesn’t like being called a bastard, and he cries into his mother’s skirt the first time he hears it. 

“Why do they call me that?” He asks, turning a tear stained face up to look at her. 

She’s beautiful to him, with her brown hair that is always pulled back under a white cap, even though a tendril always escapes by her right temple. She’s got lines under her eyes, but they’re still a beautiful bright blue, and Dwalin thinks they sparkle a bit like the river pebbles he finds. She’s far too skinny, they both are, but she’s still soft enough when she folds him into her arms and pulls him on to her lap, kissing his cheek with her soft lips. 

“Little dove, you cannot control other’s words,” she says softly to him, wiping away the last of the moisture on his face. “You are only responsible for yourself, and for what you say.”

“I would never say anything so mean,” Dwalin says stoutly, drawing himself up straighter. “I know better than that.”

“Yes, you most certainly do,” she replies, and she’s already setting him down, which must mean she’s awfully tired. “I have raised you better than that, but their mothers did not raise them well. Be grateful for what you have been given in manners and in love, little dove.”

Dwalin nods his head, even though he doesn’t quite understand everything she has said. However, he knows what it means to be grateful, and so he is thankful that he was given the mother he was, even if it meant he doesn’t have a father. 

She runs her hand over his mop of brown hair a final time before she nudges him back outside, because the sun has not yet set, and her work load is not over. In the evenings when she is finished at the manor, she washes laundry for the town folk, and that will keep her busy until midnight. 

Dwalin easily goes, because sometimes she will get him to hang the clothes, and they’re always so heavy and wet. The yard of the manor is still busy, with stable hands leading horses back to their stalls, and there’s a commotion of noise as two riders thunder into the stable yard. Dwalin quickly backs up against the side of the fence so he’s not in the way as he watches with wide eyes. 

It’s the lord of the manor himself, the Baron Fundin! He pulls his black horse to a stop and swings down, tossing the reins to a stable boy as he walks towards the manor. Dwalin shrinks further back against the fence, hoping he goes unnoticed, for although the lord has never spoken to him, he always gives Dwalin the cruelest of looks. Dwalin wishes he knew what he had done to offend so great a lord so he could apologize, but his mum always tells him to keep his head down, and nose clean. 

Behind the baron comes his only child, his son Balin. Dwalin is less afraid of him, for Balin always seems to have a special smile for Dwalin, and just last week he had seen Dwalin going through the kitchen garbage for food and hadn’t scolded him. Instead, he had gone to the turkey platter that was prepared for that evening’s meal, and had ripped the entire turkey leg off and given it to Dwalin, who had gnawed on it for over an hour. 

He gives Balin a hesitant smile, but it quickly disappears as Balin suddenly stops and lowers himself down so he is eye-level with Dwalin. The baron has stopped, and is watching them with a scowl. 

“Hello there,” Balin says kindly. “Your name is Dwalin, is that correct?”

“Yes, my lord,” Dwalin whispers, and he quickly drops his gaze to the ground. The yard is quiet as the rest of the servants watch him, and Dwalin does not want to do something to offend the baron even more, and get his mother in even more trouble. 

“You are growing up so tall,” Balin notes, and he reaches up to tap the wooden post beside Dwalin. “You’re almost as tall as this post, and you are only four.”

“Soon to be five!” Dwalin exclaims, before he remembers it’s not the kitchen boy he’s speaking to, but Lord Balin. “I apologize.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Balin says, and while there is a firmness in his voice, there’s still a softness there that makes Dwalin almost believe he could trust this man, and he wouldn’t call Dwalin a bastard. “Of course you are almost five, that is a very exciting accomplishment.”

“My lady mother says that if I am good, I can go to town for my birthday,” Dwalin says, pushing away from the fence so he’s closer to Balin. “We don’t have any coins to buy anything, but I have only left the manor once before, so it is still a good present.”

“You deserve a present for your birthday,” Balin says, and he’s suddenly reaching into his doublet, and he hands Dwalin a single gold coin. 

“Balin, you go too far,” the baron suddenly barks, and he’s standing closer than Dwalin realized. 

He jerks sharply, his back hitting the post as he stares at the baron, his hand still clutching the gold coin. 

“No Father, you do not go far enough,” Balin reports, and he’s rising to his full height. “Look how skinny he is, look at how pale he is. You should be doing more.”

A thunderous expression appears on the baron’s face, and he’s reaching out to backhand Dwalin across the face. Pain blooms all along his skin as his lip splits open and the metallic taste of blood is sharp in his mouth. He’s too shocked to cry, for as much as the baron has appeared to dislike him, he has never touched Dwalin before. 

No one has ever touched Dwalin like this before. 

“That is enough!” Balin exclaims, and he moves to step forward to Dwalin’s side. 

The baron grabs his arm though, and wrenches his son backwards. “Cease your speaking, or you shall receive the same,” he says. “This boy is my property, and I will treat him as I see fit. He is a bastard, and a stain upon my reputation. His mother should have drowned him in the river when he was born. Enough of your meddling, Balin, or you will not like the consequences.”

Dwalin is only four years old, and this is the first time that somebody has struck him. 

He’s in pain, and wants his mother, and he cannot stop the sudden burst of tears that overtake him. He sniffles hard, reaching up to wipe at his nose, because his mother always told him that when it came to the baron, Dwalin was to keep his nose clean. 

The baron raises one eyebrow, and sneers, “Pathetic.” 

Then he turns and walks away, pulling Balin with him, and the yard is silent as they disappear inside the manor home. The moment the door shuts, people begin to bustle again, glancing at Dwalin on their way past. Unable to handle the stares anymore, Dwalin turns and hurries towards his house, sliding in the door and darting past his mother so she can’t see his bleeding face. 

He crawls into the bed that he shares with her, the straw poking him through the tattered sheet that they sleep on. He doesn’t understand everything the baron had said, but he had understood enough. Dwalin is only four years old when he realizes that the baron would rather him drowned like a litter of kittens than to exist within the manor. 

**_ 1733 _ **

Dwalin is thirteen years old the next time that Balin speaks to him. After the baron had struck him in the stable yard, things had changed. Unless he was in school, Dwalin tried to stay in the small house that they lived in. When he was forced to be outside, he would often get into fights, and sometimes the baron would have him whipped for starting trouble. 

Dwalin never lets the baron see him cry again, though, for he will never forget derision in the lord’s voice as he had coldly disregarded Dwalin’s tears. 

He would never admit it, for Balin had hardly spoken to him before that, but it had been enough for Dwalin to miss it when it was gone. Despite the fact that Balin is so much older than him, he had been the closest thing Dwalin had had to a friend as a child, and now he is alone. Completely, and positively alone, for just that morning his mother had breathed her rattling last, and then gone unnervingly still. 

Dwalin knows she’s dead, and he had told the Baroness’ chamber maid, for she was the only maid that was still friendly to his mother. She had told someone else, and eventually men had showed up to take his mother away so they could bury her before she infected anyone else. 

“Where will I go?” Dwalin asks the chamber maid, but she shakes her head, for she does not know. Dwalin is only thirteen years old, and he cannot be left on his own. He has no family and no friends, though, and will have to most likely go three towns over to the orphanage, she says. 

Dwalin cannot bear to listen to her words, even if they’re not said in malice, and he runs out of the manor and past the stables, climbing the small hill. He throws himself down on the grass and lets the ants and the beetles hear the extent of his grief, and sobs until his throat is sore and he feels drought-dry. 

When he sits up, Balin is standing a little away from him, his hands in his pockets, and he is watching Dwalin without an ounce of judgement on his face. He passes him a handkerchief, and then lowers himself to sit down beside him on the grass, as if he was a servant just like Dwalin, and not the son of a baron.

“I am sorry to hear of your mother,” Balin says. “I know she had been sick for a while, and she is free of pain now.”

It is meant to be a comforting sentiment, Dwalin thinks, but all it does it remind Dwalin that he is alone, and will have to go to an orphanage. He doesn’t reply, because he does not want to offend Balin, not when he’s only ever shown him kindness. 

“I had wanted to wait until you were older,” Balin continues, and he shifts so he’s facing Dwalin. “However, fate has twisted my hand, and the time is upon us quicker than anticipated.”

“What do you mean?” Dwalin asks, his voice hoarse. 

“You must promise me that you will react calmly, and you can’t grow angry,” Balin cautions him. “I had wanted to wait until you were older and mature, but that’s not possible, so you mustn’t make it so I regret telling you now.”

“Tell me what?” Dwalin says, his curiosity piqued. 

“I know you have suffered,” Balin says, and a frown crinkles on his face. “I wish I could have done more to prevent it, but it was not in my power to stop them from calling you names.”

Dwalin scowls down at the blades of grass and rips up a handful. “They called me a bastard,” he spits out the word like it tastes foul, and it does. “My mum… she told me that my dad died to her before I was ever born.”

“And I suspect that was true,” Balin says. “However, I think she meant it more than he was dead _to_ her, rather than he was just dead, do you see?”

“You mean, he’s not dead?” Dwalin’s stomach swoops, and then twists violently. He feels like he’s going to be sick. He had always believed what she had said, and thought that his father was dead. Otherwise he would have come back to them, and would have shut everyone up that had said Dwalin was a bastard and his mother was a whore. 

“No, your father is not dead,” Balin says gently, and he rests his hand against Dwalin’s thin shoulder. “He’s very much alive, I’m afraid.”

“Am I to go live with him then, instead of the orphanage?” Dwalin doesn’t know which one seems like the worse option, because while an orphanage seems unbearable, the idea of living with a man who hadn’t wanted him from the beginning seems much, much worse. 

“No, I think you will come to live with me,” Balin says, and the warm smile is back on his lips. “Would that please you?”

Dwalin stares at him, and at the sudden, unexpected kindness. “Why?” He finally says, because Balin is the son of a baron. Why would he want a bastard like Dwalin to live with him? It strikes him then, that Balin had left his father’s home a few years back, and had bought his own. Perhaps he needed more servants of his own, and Dwalin was going to be a stable boy, or kitchen boy. 

“I don’t really know how to tell you this, not at this age,” Balin says, and the smile is gone again. His face is creased with worry, and he takes his hand away from Dwalin’s shoulder. “You see, your father was not kind to your mother.”

“No, he wasn’t, not if he left us,” Dwalin says, and feels indignation swell within him. 

How dare this man leave his mother, leave Dwalin like they were nothing. Perhaps he too would wish that Dwalin had been drowned in the river at his birth. 

“That’s not what I mean,” Balin says, before he sighs heavily. “I suppose there are details that aren’t important right now. The important thing is I would like you to come and live at my house, rather than the orphanage.”

“Do you need a servant boy?” Dwalin asks, and he reaches up to push his brown hair back. He needs to get it trimmed again, because it’s always getting in his eyes. “I’m real useful, honest! I can help in the kitchens, and I can start the fires in the morning. You won’t regret taking me into your service, sir.”

“You misunderstand me,” Balin says, and he reaches out to put his hand on Dwalin’s shoulder again. “You see, you were not born to be a servant, Dwalin. Your father was a great man in status, even if not in deeds.”

“My mum is a servant, though,” Dwalin says, before he realizes his mistake, and his heart feels like it’s cracking in two all over again. “I mean, she was a servant.” 

“Yes, your mother was a wonderful servant, who trusted a man she should not have,” Balin says, and Dwalin can tell that he’s speaking carefully, like adults do when they think those younger than them will not understand what they’re saying. “You would come into my household not as my servant, Dwalin, but as my brother.”

Dwalin stares at him, for it feels like the cruelest of jests. All his life Dwalin had wanted a sibling, someone to have his back when the rest of the children were mean, and his mother had always kissed his forehead and soothed that he was her little dove, the only one she’d ever need. It hadn’t taken away the want in his heart, though, and now Lord Balin of all people is offering it to him. 

“I don’t understand,” he says, swallowing the lump that’s in his throat. “Why would you want me for your brother? I am nothing but a servant.”

“You are more than a servant to me,” Balin cuts in firmly. “You see, you are my brother, Dwalin. My father was not kind to your mother, and in turn, you were born because of his actions. However, I am so glad that you were, and that we are not so alone in this world. We can be together, as brothers should be.”

Realization dawns on him like the cold slap the baron had given him when he was four years old. The disgust on his face, and the derision in his voice have suddenly become achingly clear to Dwalin, and there is no wonder why he considered Dwalin to be a smear upon his reputation. It was the baron who had defiled his mother, and had left her to suffer with a child. It was the baron that was responsible for Dwalin’s stomach cleaving to his backbone, and to the fact that he was taunted daily for being a bastard. 

His breath comes in angry pants, and he glares out over at the horizon. He wants to remain calm like Lord Balin has asked him to, but he is suddenly so furious, and wishes he was older, and stronger, so he could march up to Baron Fundin and slay him where he stood. He rips up handfuls of grass, his fingers stained green, and there’s a burning in his throat from where he’s swallowed his tears. 

“I know you are upset,” Balin says, his voice soothing and gentle. “I will not force you to do anything you don’t wish to do. You can go to the orphanage, if you like. Or you can come live with me, and live as my brother, and have a world of opportunities you’ve been denied open up to you. The choice is yours.”

It’s not really much of a choice, Dwalin thinks, for no boy will willingly go to the orphanage. Of course he will follow Lord Balin to his home, and take up his place. He wonders if the Baron knows that he’s been offered such a chance, and if he will be angry. He might strike Dwalin again, for it doesn’t matter what Lord Balin says – Dwalin is still the baron’s property. 

“What of your father?” He finally asks, his heart hammering in his chest. He feels hot and cold, all at once. “He will not like this. He believes I should be dead.”

“Aye, he does believe that, but he is wrong to do so,” Balin says, and he pats Dwalin’s shoulder, his touch light. “However, I am a grown man, and I run my own estate. He will not be able to hurt you, I will see to it.”

There’s something in Balin that Dwalin instinctively trusts, and he has all along. Perhaps it was the bond of brotherhood that drew them together, and it’s all beginning to make sense to him now. If Dwalin goes with Balin now, he will be given the family that he always wanted and was denied. If he accepts this, then Dwalin’s future has suddenly opened up to him, and he has _choices_. He has a freedom that he never did before, and he would be a fool to throw this opportunity away. 

His mother would have wanted this for her little dove. 

“I will come with you,” he says, and he turns to face Balin. He doesn’t know what it’s in store for him, but surely anything must be better than staying here at the manor with the baron. “If you are sure you want me, for no one has ever wanted me before.”

“I am absolutely positive that you are very wanted,” Balin says, and he pulls Dwalin to his feet. Despite the age difference, Dwalin already stands nearly eye-to-eye with Balin, and it will not take long until he surpasses him. “Welcome home, brother.”

**_ 1761 _ **

Dwalin rides into the courtyard of Moria Manor, dusty from the road and pleased to finally be home after months of being on the road. Despite the twenty-four years that have passed since he first arrived at age thirteen, Dwalin will always feel a swoop of belonging when he arrives back at Moria after a time away. 

Balin had been true to his word that day when Dwalin had been so young, and had taken him out of the baron’s manor and into his own home. Dwalin had been given his own bedroom, close to Balin’s, and a tutor had been hired. Dwalin had worked hard to catch up on everything he had missed, and while it was proven that he did not have a head for numbers, he excelled when it came to training with swords, and it wasn’t long after his eighteenth birthday that Dwalin joined the army. 

Becoming Balin’s brother did not stop all the taunts, there were still those that knew Dwalin was the bastard of a servant maid, and there were those that believed Balin had lost his mind to accept him into his home, but Dwalin quickly realized that Balin marched to the beat of his own drum, and he did not care what others said. Just like he had ignored all reason and had adopted Dwalin, so did he abandon all counsel and married the daughter of a nearby farmer. 

Dwalin had been seventeen when Balin had married Mary, and he had liked her immediately. She had not cared that he was a bastard, and instead she had treated him warmly and kindly. She never resented his presence, and always strived to include him in everything. Dwalin had been twenty-two and heartbroken when Mary had died in childbirth, her infant daughter following close behind. 

Balin had never married again, claiming he had married once for love and could not bear the break of it again, and to this day it was just Balin and Dwalin who lived in Moria Manor. 

And now after months away, Dwalin is glad to be home and looking forward to seeing his brother. Balin had been suffering from a persistent cough when Dwalin had first left, and despite the cheeriness of his letters, Dwalin will not feel at ease until he sees Balin with his own eyes. Balin is fifty-eight, living longer than others they know, having already buried his father, mother, wife and child. 

Dwalin cannot imagine a world without Balin. 

He swings down from his horse and tosses the reins to the stable boy, taking care to give him a smile as well. Dwalin has strived all his adult life to ensure that their servants are happy and enjoy serving them, for he will never have anyone feel the way he did as a boy. 

“Where is my brother?” He asks, stroking his horse on the nose. 

“Lord Balin has not been home in weeks,” the boy replies, flushing as Dwalin turns his full attention on to him. “Sir,” the boy adds, dropping his gaze. 

Dwalin had left his brother unwell, and to think that Balin has been gone for weeks is concerning, for Dwalin does not know where his brother would have gone. Unless his brother had been summoned to the new court of King George III, who was just married and crowned, Balin was the type that preferred to remain home and conduct his business privately. 

Dwalin strides inside the back door of the manor and makes his way to his rooms so he can bathe and change. Once he’s refreshed, he tracks down Walter, who is his brother’s personal secretary. If any man is to know where Balin is, it will be Walter. 

He finds him in Balin’s library, writing diligently on a scroll, and Dwalin waits until the fountain pen had been lifted before he asks, “Where is my brother?”

Walter set down the pen and immediately stands, bowing his head towards Dwalin. Despite his knowledge of Dwalin’s origins, he has never once made Dwalin feel like a fraud. Balin would have never stood for it. “I am afraid your brother claimed that he was ill, and has taken up residence in Farin Hall, and has demanded to be left alone.”

Dwalin pauses as that, for Farin Hall had been the baron’s home before he passed, and while Balin remains taking care of it, it had remained empty save for servants, for neither Balin or Dwalin had happy memories there. For Balin to move back to his childhood home surely meant that something was greatly wrong. 

“Thank you,” Dwalin replies, and wheels around. He immediately heads back outside to the yard, and instructs for a fresh horse, for it is over an hour’s hard ride to Farin Hall. The sun is just beginning to set low in the sky by the time Dwalin thunders up to the front of the house, and he ignores the stable hand that rushes out to aid him. He throws the reins at him and charges inside, ignoring the groom that tries to shut the door in his face. 

“Sir, you cannot enter!” The groom calls after him, running behind. “Please, it’s not safe!”

“Where is my brother?” Dwalin demands, for his patience has fled him entirely now in the state of his fear. Balin is sick, sicker than Dwalin imagined, and he will not leave him to die alone. 

“He is shut up in the east wing, and you must leave,” the groom says, and he lays his hands on Dwalin’s chest and tries to push him backwards. “Now!”

Dwalin has fought in the king’s army for years, though, and has built up his strength. He shoves the groom away from him, and turns towards the east wing. He is less familiar with Farin Hall, for while he had grown up here, he had been denied the experience of exploring it fully, and had been kept to the servant’s quarters. 

“If you value your life, you will not go!” The groom calls after him. 

“My brother’s life is my own,” Dwalin calls behind, and continues his way to the east wing. It’s completely deserted of servants, and it takes him a few tries before he finally shoves open a door and find Balin sitting in the corner. 

He had expected to find his brother lying on a bed, pale and near death from the plague, or perhaps bloated and swollen with boils. He did not expect to find his brother sitting in the corner, a blanket wrapped around his frame, reddish eyes blinking owlishly at him. 

“Dwalin?” His brother murmurs, licking his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were unwell,” Dwalin replies, and he crouches down beside his brother. 

There is something different in Balin’s demeanor, something almost feral that Dwalin doesn’t trust. That is absurd, though, for this is _Balin._

“I am deeply unwell,” Balin confirms, and he flinches away from Dwalin. “You should go.”

“I will not leave you,” Dwalin says firmly, for he loves his brother too much to leave him alone in this state. Whatever’s the matter, they will see it through together. “Is it your cough that’s still bothering you?”

“No, that’s quite gone,” Balin replies, and he laughs hoarsely. “I don’t think I shall be bothered by that again.”

“Then what is the matter?” Dwalin reaches out and ignores how Balin tries to pull back. Instead he rests his hand against Balin’s shoulder, and can feel how hard his skin has grown. “What has happened to you?”

“I was attacked, and I thought I had been left for dead,” Balin says, flinching, and Dwalin tightens his grip. “You need to go. I am not to be trusted.”

“You have been the only person I’ve ever trusted,” Dwalin says, and he shakes his head. “I will not leave you now. Who attacked you? I will sort this out.”

“No, you cannot fight this battle for me, brother,” Balin says. He pulls himself away from Dwalin, and rises to his feet. Even though Dwalin surpassed him in height years ago, he feels a sudden lick of fear fissure down his spine. Balin has always been docile and kind, but there is a newfound strength in him that Dwalin has never seen before. 

“If someone has hurt you, then it is my fight,” he says, climbing to his feet as well. He feels wary, battlefield instincts beginning to awaken. There’s danger here in this room, even if it’s in the form of Balin. 

Balin opens his mouth, but then hesitates. He finally closes his mouth and shakes his head, wordlessly pointing towards the doorway. He’s trying to send Dwalin away, without even giving him the opportunity to fix whatever’s wrong. For years it has been the pair of them, and now he has moved out of their family home, returning to the place they both hate, and Dwalin doesn’t understand. 

He states as much, holding his ground. “I don’t understand,” he says softly. “What has happened to you that would cause you to move back to the home of your father, the man we both hate? It must be serious, and we have shared everything between us, Balin. We are brothers, we are the only kin left standing. I will aid you, but you must tell me the truth.”

“We are not brothers,” Balin says, and there is a sudden sneer on his lips. It’s so unfamiliar, and yet, the familiarity of the old baron is there, and Dwalin feels like he is looking at someone he thought long gone. “You are a bastard, born of a whore, and you reached higher than you should have.”

It’s a raw ice that is carving him hollow, and he stares at Balin in disbelief. “I never reached once,” he says, and his mind feels sluggish and slow. “I don’t understand. We’re brothers.”

“You fool,” Balin shouts, and there’s an undercurrent of a roar. It smells like thunder in the room. “I am the son of nobility, and you are nothing more than a kitchen maid’s bastard! How dare you believe that you are my equal? You may return back to the shack that I formally called home, I want no part of it. I will remain here, in the home of my forefathers, where I belong. And, more importantly, where you do not.”

A fury fills Dwalin like a tide, and his hands clench into fists at his side. He steps forward, just once, but then Balin is pressing forward, and Dwalin’s instincts are in high gear again. He sags back, and there’s a look of triumph on Balin’s face. 

“Get out,” he hisses, and Dwalin doesn’t hesitate. 

Somehow he finds his way back to Moria Manor, although if pressed, he would not be able to recall exactly how. He’s sitting in his study when he finally takes notice of his surroundings, seated by the roaring fire with a bottle of brandy in his hand. It’s half empty, and his stomach is swilling. 

He doesn’t understand what happened, the sudden shift in Balin’s temperament. Balin had always been the sole person to love Dwalin unconditionally, to accept him as family, even if he hadn’t deserved it. Apparently he hadn’t believed it all along, and had finally had enough of the charades, casting Dwalin out. 

“No,” he says aloud, because he knows his brother better than this. Balin loves him. Balin had rescued Dwalin from his pit of misery, and had brought him alongside. They are brothers, confidantes, equal partners in this game of life. If Balin is acting like this, then it must be because he is terribly ill. He must have a fever, or disease, and will need to be bled. 

Balin has worked all his life to ensure Dwalin’s health and happiness, and now it is Dwalin’s turn to do the same. 

And yet every time he tries to reach out to his brother, he is rebuffed with silence. Letters go unanswered, and he is not allowed back into Farin Hall. The chasm between them widens, and the weeks bleed into months, and yet, Dwalin still believes that he has a brother who loves him. 

**_ 1766 _ **

There’s a knock on his study door, and Dwalin lowers the scroll in front of him, calling out that they may enter. The door swings open, and it is Dwalin’s personal secretary, Cecil, standing in the doorway. He gives Dwalin a brief bow, for he has always showed Dwalin the upmost respect, despite knowing his upbringing. Cecil himself comes from humble beginnings, and Dwalin shares a kindred spirit with him. 

“What is it, Cecil?” He asks, taking the opportunity to lift a goblet of wine and he takes a slow sip. He’s been fighting a headache all day, for despite the five years that has passed between him and Balin, he has yet gotten the hang of running a manor. 

“You have a visitor, sir,” Cecil says, and there’s a hesitant look on his face. “I can send him away, if you’d like.”

“Who is it?” Dwalin’s curious now, because he very rarely receives visitors at Moria Manor. When he wants company, he goes to King George’s Court at Windsor Castle, and finds a maid to Queen Charlotte that does not mind tumbling into his bed. 

“It is Lord Balin,” Cecil says, and he glances over his shoulder before he moves further into the room, lowering his voice. “After everything he has done, sir, please let me – ”

“Let him in,” Dwalin interrupts, his heart leaping in his chest. He doesn’t know why, but Balin has come to speak to him, something he hasn’t done in over five years. Dwalin will not be petty and turn him away, not when his heart is beginning to pound in excitement. 

“Sir, I think it would be wise – ”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Dwalin says, rising to his feet. 

“Yes, sir,” Cecil nods his head and then turns and disappears down the hallway. 

Dwalin stands behind the desk, and his palms begin to feel sweaty. He wishes he knew why Balin was here, and he can only hope that he will not have to endure anymore hurtful words. Hearing Balin call him a bastard, the word that he had heard so much as a child and had thought would stay in his childhood. He cannot bear to hear Balin insult his mother again, for Dwalin had kept his cool once, he cannot be expected to do it again. 

Balin is suddenly looming in the doorway, and despite the fact that he has not grown any, he seems bigger somehow. His hair has stayed a majestic white, but his beard has grown from his chin to mid-chest. His eyes are bright and wet, and he lowers himself to his knees, right there in the doorway. 

Cecil tactfully drifts away as Dwalin stumbles around from his desk. Balin must be even sicker now, and has finally come to ask Dwalin for help – which of course he will give. It’s not even a second thought in his mind. After everything Balin has done for him, how can Dwalin not help him?

“Balin, it is so good to see you,” he says, reaching for him. 

“How can you be so kind to me after everything I have done to you?” Balin asks, and a tear drips down his pale cheek. “I was cruel.”

“You are unwell,” Dwalin says, and he helps Balin to his feet, leading him to sit in a stuffed chair by the fireplace. “Please, sit.”

“I owe you the greatest of apologies, and even though I don’t expect you to forgive me, I pray you will hear me out,” Balin says, and he lowers himself down in the chair. “What I said to you… please know that I never meant any of it.”

“Like I said, you are unwell,” Dwalin says, because Balin has saved his life. The least Dwalin can do is forgive him. “There is nothing to forgive, just say that we are brothers once again.”

“Of course we are brothers,” Balin says, and he leans his forehead against Dwalin’s. “You will always be my brother.”

Dwalin feels a rush of peace wash over him, he had not realized just how much he needed to hear those words from Balin again. “Then let me help you,” he says. “If you are unwell, or in some sort of trouble, then let me aid you.”

“You will have to help me, for I cannot do this on my own any longer,” Balin confesses, and he leans back from Dwalin, putting space between their bodies once more. “I don’t even know where to begin, for every time I try to start, I sound absolutely mad. The last thing I want is for you to think ill of me, and have me committed.”

“I should hope I have proven my loyalty by now,” Dwalin says, furrowing his brows as he studies his brother. There’s a hardness to Balin that never existed before, and there’s a glint in his eye that twists Dwalin’s gut, cautioning him to be wary. 

“Five years ago, while you were away with the King’s army, I was attacked on a journey home,” Balin says, settling back in his chair. He stares down at the floor as he speaks, refusing to meet Dwalin’s gaze. “It was a man I had never seen before, and he pulled me from my horse with unnatural strength. He pinned me to the dusty road and ravaged my neck with his teeth, and it burned.”

Dwalin starts forward in his chair. “He bit you on the neck?” He interrupts to clarify, because that seems like an odd thing to do during an attack. Balin is a man of modest wealth, most attackers would go for his coin purse. 

“Yes, he tore open a section of my neck with his teeth. They were elongated and unnatural,” Balin says, and he leans forward, pulling down the collar of his shirt. On the thick of his neck, there’s a silver scar that shimmers in the candlelight. “He left me for dead on the road, taking my horse. I laid there the entire night, burning, and wished for death.”

Dwalin feels sick to hear the story, and wants him to stop, but he can’t. He needs to understand what Balin went through, just as much as Balin needs to confess it, he suspects. “I am so sorry I was not there for you,” he settles on saying. 

“I am glad for it, for he would have brought you down as well,” Balin says grimly, his mouth pinched into a flat line. “By the time the sun was hanging in the sky, I was able to drag myself back home. However, I had changed, and I could not be trusted any longer. I wanted to hurt every single servant we had. I stumbled into the house, and the kitchen maid was the first person I saw. I pinned her flat against the table and bit her neck, sucking her blood until she was dead. I drained her dry.”

Dwalin stares at him, for he had not expected the story to take such a gruesome turn. “Balin,” he says, before falling silent. What can he even say to any of this?

“It sounds like I am lying, but I promise this is no falsehood, brother,” Balin says. “I retreated that day to Farin Hall, and kept to myself because I could not be trusted. I kept servants, but they weren’t allowed to approach me, and only fed me through a hole in the door. I was locked into a room until I could finally remain calm around them.”

“I came and saw you, and you didn’t hurt me,” Dwalin says, even though the words taste ashy in his mouth. Balin had not laid hands on him, he had not physically hurt Dwalin, but he had certainly said enough. 

“It took every last inch of willpower I had to not hurt you,” Balin says, and he finally meets Dwalin’s eyes. “My resolve was crumbling, and I knew I would never forgive myself if I hurt you, and so I spoke those cruel words to make you leave.”

“For the past five years, that is why you have kept your distance?” 

“Yes, I had to make sure that I would not be a danger to you. I finally feel like I have a handle on my condition, and I can speak to you without the taste of blood echoing in my mouth.”

Dwalin wrinkles his nose. “So you drink blood now?”

Balin looks away once more. “I know. I have become repelling. If it soothes your conscience, know that I only drink animal blood any more, since I don’t want to be a burden on society.”

“Whatever happened to the man that attacked you?” Dwalin asks curiously. 

“I’ve never seen him again,” Balin replies. “He got away. I have been left on my own since the beginning, trying to learn how to manage this.”

“If you think you are safe to come home, will you do so?” Dwalin asks. He doesn’t know how he feels about all of this. On one hand, it sounds absolutely unbelievable to think that a man would attack Balin, and in turn, Balin would kill a woman. 

On the other hand, he sees the changes in Balin, and there doesn’t seem to be any other explanation. 

“I think so, yes,” Balin says, shifting in his seat. “I miss you, and I want to come back to Moria Manor.”

Just like that, it’s done. Balin goes home and has the servants gather up the rest of his belongings, and then he moves back into Moria Manor. They’re finally reunited again, the two of them, and Dwalin thinks everything is going smoothly. They’re cautious in keeping Balin away from large crowds, and Dwalin always ensures the kitchens are stocked with bloody, raw meat. Other than those slight changes, life goes back to the normal routine they had for years, and yet, Dwalin isn’t happy. 

“What’s wrong?” Balin asks him one day as they sit in the dining room, plates of fine food piled around them. Balin’s plate remains mostly empty, for he’s explained to Dwalin multiple times that food doesn’t appeal to him anymore. 

“It’s going to sound silly,” Dwalin warns, because he doesn’t know how to put his thoughts into words. “It has to do with your… condition.”

“Ah, yes, my condition,” Balin says, shifting in his seat. “The one that you have been extraordinarily supportive of.”

“Yes, that one,” Dwalin says, and doesn’t bother to hide a flash of a smile. “You have been back home for a few months now, and I cannot help but feel that you have something I do not. I feel like I am lacking.”

“You are fine the way you are,” Balin says firmly, and his gaze darts away from Dwalin’s. “Let’s discuss something else.”

“No,” Dwalin says stubbornly, for he is not so afraid anymore that he will lose Balin again. “We are going to discuss it now. You are stronger and faster than you were before. You should be aging, and yet you seem to have more energy. I want that.”

“You don’t know what you are asking for,” Balin says, and he sets his napkin down in his lap. “I have been doing a bit of research, trying to find any scrap of information that I can regarding my condition. The answers I have found are complex and alarming. If what they say are true, then I have become harder to kill, for I am supposedly immortal.”

“Immortal,” Dwalin echoes. He tries to imagine life stretching on ahead with no end in sight, but his imagination fails him. He can hardly picture the next twenty years, let alone two hundred. 

What would the world look like then?

“I don’t have all the answers. Nothing I have researched has been verified or confirmed, because unless you are a part of this world, who would believe it?”

“I am a part of this world, through you, and I believe it,” Dwalin says, and he thinks of how it felt to be so alone as a child. He thinks of getting older, and dying, and the rest of time stretching on with Balin being alone. “I know what I am asking for, Balin.”

“If you are sure,” Balin says, and there is a note of relief in his voice. 

“We are brothers,” Dwalin says firmly. “And brothers stick together.”


	2. Chapter 2

**_ 2018 _ **

There’s less smog in Vancouver than in London, but there’s more rain. Thick, fat rain drops drip steadily down the window as Dwalin watches out the glass. The sky is gray and unforgiving, much like his mood. They have been here for six months, and Dwalin has yet to feel settled. 

There’s noise behind him, conversation flowing in the kitchen. He can pick out the ebb and flow of Fili’s voice, and the smirking response of Kili’s. His frown deepens at the thought of Kili. There is something about him that Dwalin doesn’t trust, even if Kili has proven himself so far. He is not who Dwalin would have selected for Fili. A new voice joins the conversation, and despite their differences, there is something about the candor of Ori’s voice that reminds Dwalin of Nori. 

His chest tightens at the thought of Nori, and he swallows hard. He had thought the longing would fade within the first couple of months, but it is still as strong as ever. His heart cries out for Nori, even though his mind knows that the hunter isn’t too be trusted. 

The voices grow louder until they’re through the doorway and in the dining room, dishes clattering on the table. Dwalin remembers how after he was turned he tried to eat as well, his mind insisting that it needed nutrition to survive. Kili and Ori will eventually realize that they need little more than blood to sustain them, but for now they like to gorge themselves on expensive cuts of meat and fancy pasta dishes that Kili is actually quite skilled at making. 

“Oh, sorry Dwalin, I didn’t realize you were in here,” Fili says, and he’s coming up to stand beside him. He reaches Dwalin’s shoulder, forever trapped at the height of his youth, and it doesn’t matter how many years pass. Fili will always be a child to him, and Dwalin will always feel protective of him. 

He would have chosen differently for him. 

“It’s fine,” he says, turning to see what is on the menu tonight. There’s steaming lasagna, and a bowl of Caesar salad, and even a plate of garlic toast. Dwalin resists the urge to roll his eyes, because Kili is always so extra. “This is a waste of money,” he says lowly to Fili. 

Kili glances up, his eyes flashing. “You have more money than you know what to do with,” he retorts, sliding a large slice of lasagna on to his plate. With a clearer view, Dwalin is able to see that it’s a chicken red pepper Alfredo lasagna, and it smells tasty. “If Ori and I want to slowly transition out of our humanity, then I think that’s our business.”

Fili cuts Kili a narrow glance. “Kili,” he says reprovingly. 

“I’m just saying,” Kili mutters, turning his attention back on to the food. 

“We never ate this good before,” Ori confirms, sliding into his seat. His plate is already piled high with food. “Kili and I could barely make ends meet, so we always bought food that was on sale. I know we don’t need the food, but it’s still pretty delicious!”

An unwilling smile tugs on the corner of Dwalin’s mouth. He’s developed a soft spot for Ori and Dori both since they had moved in, and he’s quickly come to think of them as family, as much as he views Fili. Ori receiving the bite wasn’t ideal, but Dwalin can’t find it in himself to regret Balin doing it. Otherwise he would be dead, and Dwalin doesn’t know how Nori would have reacted to that. Of course, Nori already reacted pretty poorly to Ori becoming a vampire, to the whole supernatural world in general. 

His smile fades away and he turns away, unable to see the glint of red hair that is so similar to Nori’s. 

“Are you all right?” Fili asks. It’s something he asks every single day, but Dwalin isn’t sick of it yet. He can’t find it in himself to be irritated when he knows that Fili is simply coming from a place of concern. It rankles him to know that Fili has achieved something that Dwalin has been denied, but that’s petty thinking and there’s no room in his heart for such jealousy. 

He’s happy that Fili found his soulmate, even if Dwalin would have chosen differently for him. 

“I think I will retire to my room,” he says instead of answering. There is only so many times he can say that he is fine, and only so many times that Fili will believe him. 

“There’s plenty of food if you’d like some,” Kili says, and Dwalin has to force himself to not snarl his fangs at him. 

He turns on his heel and leaves the room, ignoring the reprimand he can hear Fili giving Kili. It’s only late afternoon, it’s too early yet for Dwalin to feel comfortable going outside. Fili and Kili both go outside the home whenever they please, regardless of time or weather, but Dwalin is a lot more old fashioned, and struggles to bend the rigid rules he has learned. 

It has been six months since he has seen Nori, and yet, his features are still image-sharp in Dwalin’s mind when he closes his eyes. Perhaps it’s because every time he does sleep, Nori is all he sees. He can’t sense Nori through the bond, they didn’t spend nearly enough time together for that to develop, and while he knows that is a good thing, the pain would be too great otherwise, he still mourns the connection. 

_“Stop blaming Dwalin,” Nori finally says, his voice low. “I’m not an idiot, I understand how the soulmate bond works. I’ve been involved in this lifestyle enough to learn how your kind works, and I exploited that. I took advantage of his bond to me, and used it to get inside. If you’re going to be upset, blame me.”_

Nori’s sneering voice reverberates in his mind, and Dwalin wishes not for the first time that he could rip his own memories out. He throws himself down on the large king size mattress and stares up at the pale ceiling that is painted a sandy taupe. His heart had broke when Nori had spoken those words, had cracked right in half and bled straight out. 

_“Did you actually think that I would ever consider a future with you? I have spent my life dedicated to destroying vampires, and nothing is going to change that.”_

Dwalin doesn’t know what he had originally thought. For years now they have heard whispers of the fox, and Dwalin always had a healthy caution towards him. Anyone that good, that destructive, earned his respect. He had stormed into that flat, determined to save Fili and end the threat, and instead had crashed to his knees when confronted with the fire of his soul. 

He hadn’t stop to imagine a future with Nori, he had just spent his time focusing on saving Fili and Kili. And yet, somewhere along the way, Nori had become an ally in the fight, and Dwalin had foolishly allowed himself to think, _perhaps_. 

Perhaps not was more like it, and Dwalin will never be caught unaware again. He has lived hundreds of years alone, and he will continue to live hundreds more. Perhaps the universe has given him a human soulmate, one that is a hunter and dedicated to erasing Dwalin’s existence, but all Dwalin has to do is bide his time. 

All he has to do is stay one step ahead of Nori, and eventually he will outlive him.

***

The vampire community works differently in Canada, and Council meets once a month.  
Balin has attended faithfully since they arrived, Dwalin and Fili loyally in tow. They’ve kept Kili and Ori out of it for the past six months, giving them time to adjust, but now it’s time to integrate them completely into the vampire world, and have the last of their humanity fade away.

Dwalin has never particularly enjoyed Council, that’s always been more Balin’s area of expertise, but he enjoyed the vampires that he knew in London, and always looked forward to seeing them. He doesn’t know very many of them in Canada. Majority of the vampires are different than them, and have no issues with human feeding. It makes their need to move around a lot more necessary than it does for Dwalin, and so the Canadian Council changes hands quite frequently. 

Council is held in the basement of the Vancouver Library on West Georgia Street. It’s held at midnight, and Balin leads them down the stairs around quarter to, ensuring that they are on time. It’s a little dark, with only a dim strip of lighting, and Dwalin can hear Ori and Kili giggling behind him. 

“This feels like we’re in a movie!” Ori whispers, and there’s a scuffle of laughter. 

“I feel like this should lead to some kind of dungeon,” Kili hisses, and he needs to work on his volume level. He isn’t subtle in the least. 

“Enough,” Dwalin says sharply. He hates that Balin distances himself from this, and leaves it to Dwalin to discipline them, since Fili can’t be held responsible for them. 

He remembers when he had first found Fili, and had brought him home to Balin. They hadn’t been looking for anyone to join their family, they had already been a content pair for hundreds of years, but Dwalin couldn’t leave Fili alone on the street to destroy humanity. There was a flare of something, a promise that Fili was better than that, and Dwalin had responded accordingly. 

He had felt no such flare with Kili, nor really with Ori. They’re both young and immature, turned in a world where their youth is indulged, rather than curbed. Fili hadn’t been much older than them when he was turned, but he had been raised in a different world. Boys became men much quicker than they do now. 

There’s around fifty vampires in the room when they arrive, although Dwalin knows there are only a handful of actual leaders. One of these days, he’s sure Balin will accept a position on Council, but he would rather it be back home in London, rather than somewhere so far away. Despite all the moves they’ve made, Dwalin always thinks of England as home, and it’s where he always longs to be. 

“Balin, I see you have new members with you,” a voice says, and Dwalin turns to see a tall, dark haired vampire standing there, a genial smile on his face. “Please, introduce them to me.”

“Of course,” Balin says, and he ushers Kili and Ori forward. They’re both dressed in nice trousers and dress shirts, for jeans don’t belong at Council meetings. Dwalin misses the days where they used to wear doublets and hose, ermine fur and glittering jewels. “This is Lord Elrond, the highest Council member. This is Kili, the soulmate of my nephew, Fili. This is Ori, who I turned myself after he was fatally injured.”

“Such young, promising new members,” Elrond says with a smile. “I am so pleased that you have brought them tonight. So many of us have been around for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and it’s good to get some young blood.”

“Thank you,” Kili says formally, and there’s a quick smile on his face. “We’re super stoked to be here. Fili has told us all about the meetings, and so we couldn’t wait to attend ourselves.”

Dwalin doubts any of that is very true, but Kili is a better diplomat than Dwalin gave him credit for, because Elrond beams brightly at them. “Wonderful to hear! In fact, next month I was trying to think of someone who would give a stirring speech and it’s just come to me! How would you and Ori like to do it?”

Kili tenses, but his smile doesn’t waver. “What would you like us to speak on, exactly? Ori and I are both still very new to this world, and have limited experiences.”

“I think perhaps a testimony would do nicely,” Elrond says, raising his eyebrows. “Ori was turned under great duress it seems, and I think we would all like to hear the tale. Often we can forget what it was like to turn, for so many of us have lived like this for so long.”

“We’d be honored,” Kili says, and he dips his head formally. 

They finish up making small talk with Elrond and then he drifts away to begin the meeting so they quickly find their seats. The chairs are lined up in rows in four sections, and Balin has selected the second section for them, and the third row. Balin goes in first, and then Ori. Dwalin reaches out and stops Kili by the arm before he can follow Ori in. 

“You did well,” he says, and Kili flushes. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and then hurries after Ori, his cheeks still red. 

“That was nice of you,” Fili says, and there’s a hint of doubt in his voice. 

“I meant it,” Dwalin says, because he deserves the doubt. He’s never been the biggest fan of Kili, and he’s never been exactly kind towards him either. He’s always treated Kili with a grudging tolerance. “He did good.”

“I told you he’d be good,” Fili says with a quirk of his lips. 

Dwalin rolls his eyes and nudges Fili into the row so he can take his seat. He finds the Canadian meetings a lot dryer than the London ones, but at least they’re shorter. At least the Canadians get straight to the point and wrap the meetings up within a couple hours. There are always arguments in London that lead to five hours meeting until Thranduil steps in and commands everyone to be quiet. 

“Good evening.” Elrond has stepped up to the podium, and he smiles out over the crowd. “I’m so glad that everyone could join us, especially since we have something new to discuss. I know that the minutes from last month promised that we would have a speech on how to avoid blood donor clinics safely, but there is something new that has come to our attention.” His smile disappears and he leans forward on the podium, clasping it tightly. “We have received multiple reports from our friends in Iran that the renowned hunter, Smaug, has come to Canada and is in Vancouver.”

There’s a hiss around the room, and Dwalin shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s heard a bit about Smaug, the hunter of Irian descent. Dark skinned and kohl rimmed eyes, he’s infamous for attacking vampires and burning them alive, earning him the nickname of Smaug the Firebreather. 

“Do we have any confirmed reports of him?” Someone from the front asks. “There has been multiple of brutal, unsubtle kills on East Hastings Street, but…” 

“It’s East Hastings Street, who cares,” someone else drawls. “All someone is doing is purging the city of scum. We should be thanking them.”

Laughter breaks out. 

“That’s not fair,” Elrond says sharply, and his features are twisted into a frown. “Without humanity, we would suffer. We need them to ensure our survival. They are here for our use and pleasure, but that comes at a cost of protecting and respecting them. Let’s limit the unnecessary slangs, please.”

A tall man dressed in grey slacks and a grey sweater rises to his feet. He has bright blue eyes, and a long, grey beard. He walks up to the podium, a second man following him. The second man is dressed entirely in brown, but Dwalin is pretty sure some of that is mud. 

“As many of you know, my name is Gandalf,” the first man says into the microphone. “This is Radagast, who is also a part of my clan. We have been a strong clan of five, and yet, this is all the remains. Our brothers Alatar and Pallando have been slayed by Smaug. Our brother Saruman is missing, and we do not know if he is alive or not.”

“You have travelled from Europe, following him, haven’t you?” Elrond asks. 

“Not following – tracking,” Gandalf corrects. “We believe that we have some insight on Smaug, and we would like to see him destroyed. We understand that Canada is a relatively peaceful country, and that you do not suffer the persecution that we do. However, if you would like to aid us in our fight against the Firebreather, then we welcome you.”

Both men go and sit down in their seats, and Dwalin shifts forward in his own so he can exchange an uneasy look with Balin. They have just escaped battle by the skin of their teeth, and he doesn’t think any of them need to be seeking out more trouble. However, how can they leave Gandalf and Radagast unassisted, when they had friends that came and aided them, turning the tide?

The meeting wraps up quickly, and Gandalf and Radagast are both swarmed by other vampires who have questions. Dwalin meets Balin’s eye and it’s unspoken between them that no, at least not yet. Kili and Ori are too young to involve in another fight, they were fortunate to survive the first. 

“Come, let’s go home,” Balin instructs, and they make their way towards the entrance. 

A young vampire girl is by the doors, directing the traffic and ensuring that everyone leaves in a subtle way so it doesn’t end up on the news that a swarm of people streamed out of Vancouver Public Library. She’s got long dark hair, with hazel eyes, and she seems around the young trio’s age. 

“One moment, please,” she says to them as they step up to her, and then her cheeks flush as her eyes land on Ori. “Oh, hello.”

“Hello,” Ori replies, and he’s also blushing, and it’s absolutely ridiculous in Dwalin’s opinion. 

He doesn’t have the patience for love anymore. 

“My name is Tilda, and you may now proceed to the exit,” she says, and Dwalin nudges Ori forward in his haste to leave. 

He doesn’t know what the future holds for Ori, if Ori has a soulmate or not, but right now, the whole affair has soured for him. He is a supernatural creature that is destined to be alone, for his soulmate is a human of the worst kind – a hunter that would see Dwalin destroyed if he could, carved hollow and burnt up like he means nothing to Nori. 

_Nori._

The name causes his chest to clench, and he gives an irritated grunt as Kili runs into the back of him. Suddenly, he cannot bear the thought of returning back to the house, listening to the excited chatter of the young vampires who have their whole lives stretching out in front of them. 

“Go on home without me,” he says to Balin. “I don’t think I will retire just yet.”

Balin eyes him critically, his perceptive gaze sweeping over Dwalin’s face. He always sees more than Dwalin wants him to. Fili has tried to get Dwalin to confide in him, but Balin has been the only one he’s been able to talk to about Nori, and even then he’s limited what he’s feeling. “Should I be worried?” He asks, his brows furrowed. “Are you all right?”

It’s been six months, but it still feels like yesterday. 

“I’m fine,” Dwalin says, and even he’s unsure if that’s a lie. “I just want to speak to Lord Elrond.”

“Very well,” Balin says, and he reaches out to squeeze Dwalin’s forearm. He releases him and turns his attention to the other three, shepherding out the door, even as Ori keeps turning around to catch a final gaze of Tilda. 

Dwalin turns and strides back into the large room. Vampires are still milling around, mostly surrounding Gandalf and Radagast still. The vampires of Vancouver are slower to violence, more prone to peace, Dwalin has noticed. They’re not complacent, for they still have their threats, but they’re generally more good-natured about their losses than their English brothers. 

Dwalin sidesteps and moves up beside Elrond. This vampire is supposed to be as old as Thranduil is, wise and strong beyond expected. If anyone would have the answers to his questions, it might possibly be Elrond. 

“Ah, Dwalin,” Elrond says, turning with a fond smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight. How did your newest clan members enjoy the meeting?”

“Once they settled down I think they found it enlightening,” Dwalin says, and then narrows his gaze. “Perhaps _too_ enlightening. I’m worried that they might want to get involved in Gandalf’s dispute.”

“They’re young and very strong,” Elrond says, shrugging his thin shoulders. “Would that be so bad? We could use some of the strength.”

“Kili and Ori have only been a part of the supernatural world for half a year,” Dwalin says, shifting his weight between his two feet. “They were both turned under mortal wounds, and Kili became an orphan in the process. It has shaped who they are, and they are still young. I would worry for their safety.”

Fili would never forgive Dwalin if he let harm come to Kili. 

“Then perhaps you are offering your assistance?” Elrond’s gaze sweeps over Dwalin, and Dwalin knows he likes what he sees. Dwalin cuts a very intimidating figure, and strikes a very formidable pose as a warrior. When it comes to battle, he is always an asset. 

“I will help you,” Dwalin says, because why the fuck not? He has to do something to get his mind off of Nori, and off of the way he still longs for him, even though he knows only madness that way lies. 

His heart tightens at the thought of Nori, and of his sharp smile, and his rusty red hair that Dwalin longed to tangle his fingers in. He doesn’t know what happened to Nori after they left, and he knows he should not care. And yet, after all this time, he hopes that Nori is safe, and that someday, he will find his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ viiiuniverse & twitter @ viiiuniverse3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are all being written during NaNo as I procrastinate on my actual novel. All mistakes are my own, I didn't make my beta suffer through this.

There’s an uneasy stillness to the city after everything that has happened. 

If pressed, Nori would have to admit that most of it is in his mind, but it’s a feeling he still can’t shake. He goes into automatic defense mode, and erases himself from society. He reverts to his backup ID that he always carries, and becomes Norris Bohen overnight. It’s a name that he hasn’t even revealed to the Company of hunters, because there are a few things that Nori is wise to keep close to the chest. He’s learned not to be a materialistic person over time, and doesn’t bother going back to the stronghold, nor his flat in Bristol. Both are compromised, and aren’t safe for him. 

He needs to leave London as soon as possible. He has lived his entire adulthood comfortable with his skills and his calling – he thrives on ridding the world of unnatural monsters. It’s something he’s _good_ at. He’s never had a mind for sums, and an ordinary life never appealed to him like it did to Dori. Once Nori knew the dangers of the world, it was in his very nature to throw himself into the fray without a second thought. 

There’s nowhere in London that is safe for him. Every hunter that he has been associated with knows his haunts, and knows where he lays his head at night. Every hunter that had once been considered a friend or ally will try to kill him now, for they will believe that he is working with vampires, and will consider him one of them. 

It doesn’t matter that he has turned his back on Dwalin, and on his brothers as well. The hunters will kill him the moment they find him, for there is nothing they hate more than _amoureux de sangsue_ , which literally translates into leech lover. There is a code within the hunter community that understands vampires are turned under duress and not under their own will for the most part. There is sympathy in that, and it is a hunter’s duty to spare such damnation on a soul. However, there is a special place in hell for those that choose to get involved with the supernatural, and that is considered an unforgiveable crime. 

So he needs to leave London sooner rather than later, and yet his feet don’t carry him away – they carry him back down the worn pavement to Dwalin’s home. He leans against the fence, curling a hand around the iron, and stares at the windows that are covered in steel. The house has been locked down against threats, and Nori doesn’t have to break his way inside to know that it’s as empty as a tomb. 

Dwalin is not here. 

He exhales slowly, remembering a time where he had knelt on the front stoop of this house, and had begged for Dwalin’s help. It had been readily given to him, and Nori doesn’t think the older vampire understood what he was doing to Nori. He was helping him, but he had also cursed Nori, signed a seal of damnation over his head, and Nori wishes that he had just torn his throat out and been done with it. 

There’s a sound to his left, just a small, typical sound of the streets, but Nori has not survived this far without honing his instincts. He jerks away from the fence, spinning to his left and a blade is already in his hand. He draws himself short, the tip of his knife inches away from the throat of a young, husky teenager, who’s gaping at him. 

“You nearly knifed me!”

“Gimli,” Nori says, his mouth twisting. “You shouldn’t be here.”

The boy is young, just shy of turning twenty, but he’s been raised ruthlessly by his father, Gloin. Unlike Nori, who fought tooth and nail to protect Ori from the dangers of the supernatural world (not that it did any good in the end), Gloin had taken a direct and brutal approach, raising his son in the home of the hunters. He had shielded nothing from Gimli, and had taken the boy to make his first kill when he was just fourteen years old. 

Gimli is no match for Nori, but he’s nothing to scoff at, either. 

His hands are jammed into the pockets of his coat, an olive green bomber jacket that Gloin had brought back from the States. It’s unsettling that he hasn’t pulled a blade yet, considering everything he must have heard about Nori by now. He simply shrugs his broad shoulders, and his dark eyes flick towards the house. 

“D’you think they’ve left already?”

“Absolutely,” Nori says, keeping his eyes trained on Gimli. He’s not an idiot, although judging from his last sentence, he might want to rethink that stance. “At least, I’d assume so. Despite what the Company thinks, I’m not a part of their clan.”

“The warrior claimed you, though,” Gimli says, and he shrugs his shoulders again. He’s always managed to remain deceptively calm in high-tense situations. “Don’t you think that means something?”

“No,” Nori scoffs, even as his heart thumps unevenly in his chest. “And he’s not a warrior, he’s a monster. Don’t be an idiot.”

Gimli’s eyes flick towards him, and then back towards the house. “You say the same of your little brother?”

A red haze washes over his vision, and Nori has to suck in a deep breath to calm his instincts. He had done his best to protect Ori from the supernatural world, but he had also done his best to keep Ori safely guarded away from the Company. He didn’t want them to know any more than they needed to about him, because every little drop of information could be used as currency against him. 

“Don’t speak of my brother,” he says tightly, his jaw clenched. Ori didn’t need to know the world wasn’t as innocent as he had originally believed. Plus, there was always the threat of Dori looming over him, and as reckless as Nori was, he always carried a healthy fear of Dori. His brother would have murdered him if he had let any harm come to Ori. 

It’s all pointless now, since Ori has become one of them, and Dori has chosen a life of evil. 

Gimli rolls his eyes and slouches against the fence. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and Nori tenses, prepared for the attack, but instead Gimli just digs his thumbnail under a chip of paint and tears it free. “My dad says they’re going to kill you,” he says conversationally. 

If pressed, Nori would admit that he’s always like Gimli. He’s been toddling around the table legs since he could walk, learning more about battle and strategies than any other child. He’s always kept a sensible head on his shoulders, which he probably got from his mother. Nori had never known her very well, but she had seemed kind and patient from the bits he did know. She had been killed by a rogue werewolf when Gimli was only twelve years old. 

Losing his mother at a young age should have made Gimli bitter and angry, ready to lash out at any moment’s notice, but instead he surprised everyone by practicing more restraint than men twice his age, particularly his father. He’s killed a handful of vampires, Gloin had made sure of it, but he’s not prone to anger, and death is never his first option.

Nori isn’t sure if Gimli means the vampires are going to kill him, or the Company. 

Frankly, he wouldn’t hold his breath for either of them. 

“Your dad is a fool,” he retorts, tightening his grip on his blade. 

“Sometimes,” is all Gimli responds with, but the right corner of his lips quirk up in a brief smile. 

“What do you want, Gimli?” Nori demands, because he’s already lingered too long. It was stupid to come to Dwalin’s house, considering how little Dwalin means to him. Dwalin is the enemy, and that will never change. Nori doesn’t even know anything about him. He also doesn’t know why he came, perhaps to see if Ori had left him any clues as to where they went to. 

“Just wanted to warn you,” Gimli says, and he’s finally turning to face Nori, giving him his full attention, although Nori suspects that he’s had it all along. That’s the other thing about Gimli that people don’t realize – he’s damn near tricky, and isn’t afraid to be sly. “Your flat in Bristol is compromised.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nori says, even as it pangs his heart to think about the hunters going through his belongings. It’s probably not even members of the Company, it’ll be other help they’ll have recruited. He’s probably become top priority, and Nori has seen how this has played out before. 

He’s learned not to be materialistic, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. Nori grew up poor, never having more than two pennies to rub together. Now that he’s paid amply well to rid this world of evil, Nori has learned to enjoy the finer things in life, and hates that he can’t hold on to things. It feels wasteful. 

“Good. That’s all I came here to say,” Gimli says, and he gives Nori another crooked smile. “I’ve always liked you, Nori.”

Nori scowls at him, because he doesn’t want Gimli liking him. Not if it means that it’s a threat above his head, as well. He’s already seen Ori killed and Dori desert him. He can’t ruin any more lives. “Get out of here, Gimli,” he settles on saying. “Your dad would kill you if he knew you’d come.”

“Yeah, probably,” Gimli agrees. He turns and begins to walk away, disappearing around the corner, and the sound of London traffic roars back into Nori’s ears once more. 

It’s odd that Gimli would seek him out just to warn him. They’re not particularly close, Nori doesn’t let anyone get close. He likes Gimli well enough, but it’s unsettling that Gimli would know exactly where to find him. Either Nori is being tracked, or he’s a stupid as they’ve believed him to be, and has led the Company right to Dwalin’s home. 

It’s also unlikely that Gimli would come alone, and so Nori can only imagine who is still watching him in the background, waiting for the perfect moment of Nori being distracted to strike. 

He doesn’t allow himself a final glance at the house to say goodbye. Instead, he jams his hands into his pockets and starts walking the opposite way that Gimli went, his ears always cocked for the sound of footsteps dodging his own. He’s lived a life of paranoia and suspicion, but that’s going to change now. He has no one to hunt anymore, because involving himself back into the supernatural world means he’ll have to rely on allies, and that’s something in short supply. There is no one in this world that will aid Nori, for the supernatural creatures will believe he is still a hunter, and the hunters will think he’s an _amoureux de sangsue._

He is completely alone, and he would have it no other way.

***

Nori has contacts in faraway cities, and so it’s expected of him to flee towards Lisbon, or Chicago, or even Cape Town. However, Nori also refuses to do anything predictable, though, especially when there’s the chance it could lead to his blood shed. So instead he makes his way by train to Cardiff in Wales, and rents a little flat in a building that has decent enough security. He furnishes it slowly, using the cheapest options possible, because this is all eating into his savings account, and Nori doesn’t know how long he’s going to be on the run.

It takes him over three months before he feels comfortable enough leaving his flat and exploring the city. He doesn’t let himself form any patterns – he shops for groceries at different stores, and doesn’t set up a rotation. He varies his routes home, always deciding last minute if he’s going to walk or cycle. By the fifth month, Nori is pretty convinced that no one is tailing him, and he uses his fake ID to secure himself a job. 

He’s used to having all sorts of employment, being a sole hunter doesn’t pay all the bills. Majority of them have always been in the serving industry, such as bar tending or being a waiter. He’s also dabbled in the security industry, being a bouncer at a club or security detail for someone else. It would be the comfortable, safe habit to fall into, which is why he doesn’t allow himself to even think of those jobs. In his attempt to alter his path, since the hunters almost know him as well as he knows himself, Nori gets hired on at a Catholic church as a janitor. 

The stone and the framework that holds St. Mary’s of the Angels together speaks to him, and Nori is drawn to the place. He loses himself in the job, finding it peaceful to slowly drag a mop back and forth, statues of his youth staring down at him. Nori has not been religious once in his life, he doesn’t think he’s ever had a moment, not even as a child, where he believed. He had already seen too many dangers of the world, and did not believe God to be the highest monster of them all. 

And yet when he closes his eyes and breathes in the cloying incense, he can hear his mother’s rattling breath as she pulls the worn beads through her trembling hands, murmuring to herself for a miracle that never comes. 

By all rights, Nori should hate the church and hate the God that failed his mother, but he’s too world weary to carry that sort of burden around. The Catholic Church had always brought his mother peace, even though she had lived a life opposite to what the church taught. 

Perhaps in a larger, more rigid church his mother would have felt their disapproval, but in their little home church in Dorchester, his mother was included and never made to feel bad for the life circumstances she found herself in. Nori’s still a little unsure about all the details, he was never given the full story as a child or an adult, and now his mother is no longer here to ask, and Dori… well, Dori’s gone too. 

From what he can gather and piece together, Nori’s grandmother died when she was quite young, leaving behind a husband and infant daughter. His grandfather threw himself into his work, often working long, extended hours, and Nori’s mother was often left on her own for days at a time once she was a teenager. It was during that time that she fell in love with a high school sweetheart, and that resulted in Dori being born just days after their mother turned sixteen years old. 

He thinks that being a young mom was hard on her, since the boyfriend didn’t stay around to help, and to balance the chaos in her life, she had gotten devoutly involved in the church. Dori was baptized and confirmed, and their mom worked hard to ensure Dori was raised to the best of her abilities. Dori knew his dad had died young in his early twenties, drunk behind the wheel one night. He had never even seen Dori. 

She never dated after Dori’s birth either, and so everyone was quite surprised when Nori came along, shortly after Dori’s twelfth birthday. Dori has always said that their mother suffered from mental illness, and Nori was a result of a lapse in judgement and medications. 

Dori had first said that during a fight one time, aimed to hurt Nori, so he never knows if he should accept it as truth or not. 

It makes sense, though, from what he remembers of his mother. She was never really maternal. She was kind to them, and Nori doesn’t have a lot of bad memories from his childhood, but he always had the sense, even as a child, that his mother wanted more out of life than motherhood. She had told Nori when he was still young enough to fit on her lap that she had often wished she had joined a convent and become a nun, but she would have had to send her little blessings back home, and she just couldn’t bring herself to do that. 

It had taken Nori into his adult years before he realized his mother had been speaking of infanticide. 

There had been another baby born after Nori, less than a year after him, but she had only lived long enough to breathe her last. His mother had her baptized as Tori, and then cremated. She wore the ashes around her neck until the day she passed, and to this day they are buried together. 

Ori had been his mother’s greatest mistake, she had always claimed. They don’t know who his father is, even though Dori had been an adult living at home when he was born. Their mother had spent most of her time involved in the church, never dating, which limited the pool of options. Nori suspected it was probably a similar situation to his own. 

His father had always been a mystery to him, his mother clamming up any time he pleaded as a child to know some details, and it wasn’t until his youth that she had brushed his hair back and murmured that his father was someone in the church that had taken advantage of her vulnerable nature. That had cured Nori of any curiosity he had towards his father. 

Dori had also said that Nori was the sins of his father during another fight, but that one bothered him less. 

Dori has a wicked habit of saying stupid things during fights. Well, Dori _had_ a wicked habit – it’s not like Nori is ever going to see him again, not now. Nori will never have to fight with Dori again. 

The idea of that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. 

It’s been over ten years since the death of his mother, and despite the fact that they never had much in common, least of all faith, somehow being in the Catholic Church makes Nori mourn her all over again. He had just been shy of his twenty-second birthday when she died, and no one was more surprised at his grief that he was. He was already involved with the supernatural world by then, but had taken only small jobs that kept him close to home. 

Once she had died and they had laid her in the ground, Nori had run away properly, leaving without a second look, and that’s when he had met Bofur and the Company. They had accepted him into their fold, and he never even let himself stop to feel a moment of guilt for leaving Dori to swoop in and raise ten year old Ori by himself. 

Dori’s never forgiven Nori for that, and Nori’s never forgiven himself, either. 

He stops pushing his broom, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead to catch the drips of sweat. He looks up at the statue of Mother Mary, cradling baby Jesus in her arms, and she’s looking down at Nori with a solemn expression. 

“You’ve never forgiven me for that, either, huh,” he says, huffing out a breath. “Are you ever going to forgive me for never seeing either of my brothers again? If you could see the monsters they’ve become, you’d understand.”

“All of mankind are monsters in their natural state, Mr. Bohen.” It’s Father Galion sneaking up behind him. He’s wearing a genial smile on his face, and Nori suspects that Father Galion sees more into Nori’s heart than he’s comfortable with. 

“Please, call me Norris,” he says. He leans against the handle of his broom, digging a thumbnail into the wooden handle that’s cracked. “You’re not wrong, though, about humanity being monsters. It’s a tough lesson to learn.”

When he closes his eyes, he pictures Ori in his mind, fangs gleaming in the moonlight as dark blood drips down his chin. 

“And what do you know of monsters?” Father Galion is dressed in jeans and a wool jumper, and he sits down on one of the pews, twisting his body so he’s still facing Nori. “I have to confess that’s a worrisome statement for me to hear. Have you seen a thing or two in your lifetime, Norris?”

Red flags instantly snap up in his mind, and he has to force himself not to take an instinctive step back. He has taken a job here at the church because it’s a small, typical church, with a non-descriptive staff. It’s a haven for Nori to hide in while he licks his wounds and plans what to do with his life next. He doesn’t appreciate, nor desire, his former life following him. There had been no warning bells when he had interviewed here, but suddenly now, speaking so intently with Father Galion, Nori suspects that the good priest knows more about the world than he should. 

“No,” he replies shortly, and then inwardly curses. If he wants to throw off any suspicion, then he needs to act a lot more natural. He relaxes his stance and begins to move his broom again, throwing Father Galion a quick smile. “I have been blessed enough to live a quiet, well rested life. I thank God for that daily.”

Father Galion studies him for a minute longer, just long enough for sweat to begin dripping down the back of Nori’s thin, cotton t-shirt. He finally nods his head, returning the smile. “Aye, I am pleased to hear that you have thanked our Lord Savior for that. And I am pleased that you have begun a great work here, Norris.”

Mother Mary watches him, and Nori forces himself to continue sweeping, instead of swinging the broom and smacking Father Galion clean off the pew. It doesn’t matter how far he travels, he has no desire to get involved with hunters again, even if they’re a different group than the Company. Nori has built his life, _his legacy_ , in being a hunter. He is known around the globe as the fox, and has made himself a force to be reckoned with. 

If any hunter was to find out who he was, it would get back to the Company, and those that are left standing would not hesitate to seek him out and end his life as misaligned retribution. It doesn’t matter that just last year, Nori had Gimli’s name for Secret Santa and had bought the boy the Condor Golok machete he had been coveting. Gloin, and even Gimli if ordered, would cut him down where he stood. It doesn’t matter how close Nori has been to his Company, everything he has done for them. They believe him to be a leech lover, to have forsaken his beliefs, and has turned against them. 

He is a traitor of the worst kind, and traitors must die. 

He grabs his dustbin and huffs out a frustrated breath as he sweeps the dust up into the bin a little harder than necessary. He wishes the Company would trust his instincts, would trust _him_. Nori has never betrayed them before, and surely that should count for something. He may be apt at lying and spinning the truth, but he wouldn’t lie about being a traitor. He is _not_ a vampire lover. He doesn’t care about Dwalin. 

He would kill Dwalin himself, if he could. 

_You had_ plenty _of chances_ , his mind whispers to him, and Nori snarls inwardly. They believe that his heart and mind are not to be trusted, but Nori knows himself better than they do. He would never betray them, and he will _always_ act against vampires, even if it was Ori himself standing in front of him. 

His heart clenches at the thought of little Ori becoming one of them, becoming a sick and twisted unnatural version of himself. Nori has never been the praying sort, but if he was, he would pray that Ori did not survive the transformation, that the venom burned too brightly through his veins, and that he rests in the heavens with their mother now. 

Whether Ori lives or dies won’t bring Dori back to him, for Dori has forsaken Nori before he even had the chance to do the same. Whatever, that’s no matter, now. Dori has always been a sore spot in Nori’s life, taking on more of a father figure than a brother, and he has always tried to dictate Nori’s life for him. 

He will not miss the suffocation.

“There, the floors look much better, don’t they?” Father Galion says, interrupting his thoughts. “Everything always looks better when the dirt has been cleaned away.”

“Right you are, Father,” Nori says, and his gaze goes once more to Mother Mary. He curls his upper lip. “Everything looks a little better once you get rid of the dirt.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all mistakes are my own.

“I think I am going to get a job,” Kili says one evening at First Meal. 

They’re gathered around the table, all six of them. There’s a spread of food like there normally is, since vampires do need some substance, but there’s more so than usual. Ever since adding Ori to their family, they’ve also accumulated Dori, and so life has been a little different in their household since then. There’s a lot more humanity than they’ve ever had before, in an effort to make Dori feel as comfortable as possible. 

Dwalin lowers his large brass goblet that contains warm deer blood. That’s the best part of being back in Canada – there’s a lot more wildlife here to choose from. They try to abstain from human blood (Kili had made the switch eagerly, Ori had been a lot more reluctant and had taken more convincing), but sometimes the options in London were limited to cow or pig’s blood. Deer, and elk, and even black bear are a lot more satisfying to the palette. 

“Pardon?” He says after the silence has dragged on. Balin’s raised his eyebrows, and as the true patriarch of the family, it will ultimately fall to him to decide whether or not Kili can get a job. 

“I want one as well,” Ori says, and scoops a large spoonful of macaroni salad on to his plate. They’re having a barbeque, despite the fact that it’s November and chilly weather with rain that won’t just let up. However, the younger two had asked for a barbeque, and so Dori and Balin had spent all afternoon in the kitchen with Kili, cooking up a storm. 

It irritates Dwalin how much they’re babied. He certainly didn’t get anyone to hand him whatever he wanted when he was young, and they hadn’t spoiled Fili like that. They had raised him with a firm, strict hand, teaching him years of traditions, and it’s why he’s so confident and sure in his abilities. 

“What sort of job are you looking for?” Dori asks as he doctors up a cheeseburger. He takes a sip of his Diet Coke and smiles indulgently at Balin. “I should have known this was coming.”

“It’s dangerous,” Dwalin interjects, because he has been a vampire for hundreds of years. He knows how hard it is to adjust to a life of stillness, but stillness means _safety._

“No one knows we are here,” Kili retorts, and he leans over Fili to grab a hot dog off of a plate. “We can’t run forever, Dwalin. Eventually we have got to live our lives.”

“We are living our lives,” Balin replies, but he’s still smiling. “What did you have in mind?”

“Balin, surely you’re not going to entertain this foolish idea,” Dwalin says, staring at his brother. “They’re indiscreet, and they’re not ready to be out in the public, unsupervised.”

Kili snarls across the table from him. “How many humans have I attacked and killed, Dwalin?”

“Kili…” Fili says warningly, shooting Dwalin an apologetic look. 

“No, answer me,” Kili demands. He’s set his hotdog down, and he’s staring at Dwalin with an unrestrained fury in his eyes. He resents Dwalin, Dwalin knows this, but he doesn’t care. It’s his job to keep his family safe, not coddle their feelings. “How many humans have I attacked, Dwalin?”

“None,” Dwalin finally says begrudgingly. “That doesn’t mean that it couldn’t happen, though. You’re still very new to this lifestyle, Kili, and I don’t mean that as a slight against you. It takes years to master your control, and I don’t want to put you in a place where it sets you up for failure. Not only would the reveal us to the supernatural world here in Vancouver, but I know that it would really bother you to hurt someone.”

Kili deflates a little in his seat, and he huffs out a breath. “I know, but I don’t feel like I would hurt anyone! Fili and I go out a lot, and I’ve never even been tempted.”

“And that’s admirable,” Dwalin says. He wishes he could kick Balin under the table, for this should be his job. It shouldn’t be up to Dwalin to be the bad guy here. “And perhaps in a year from now, this is something that we can discuss more seriously.”

“I want to go back to university,” Ori says, and he folds his arms across his chest. “This is something I feel very strongly about, and it’s going to take a lot for you to talk me out of it.”

Dwalin raises his eyebrows. For so long it was just him and Balin, and then for almost a hundred years it was him, Balin, and Fili. In a span of such a short period their family has doubled in size, and Dwalin still isn’t used to the attitude he receives from the young ones. He doesn’t mind Dori, the older human tends to stick to himself a lot of the time, or spend his time with Balin. He doesn’t interact with Dwalin much, but he at least understands that when it comes to the supernatural world, Dwalin has a better understanding of it than he ever will, and he always submits to their authority. 

“I don’t have to talk you out of anything,” he says, and the hamburger in his stomach is sitting uneasily. “I simply have to say that it’s not happening and then guess what? It doesn’t fucking happen.”

“We’re not used to having our days stretch ahead of us with absolutely nothing to do,” Kili says, and he exchanges a look with Fili. They’ve obviously planned this discussion, which only annoys Dwalin further. He doesn’t like to be ganged up on. “You were turned in a time where nobility didn’t work, and so you’ve spent your entire life having things handed to you.”

Dwalin chokes out a laugh and looks over at Balin, who’s really grinning now. “I grew up as a kitchen boy, I know what it means to put in a day’s work,” he says. “I understand that you’re bored, trust me, I do. If you want to further your education, I think that’s great. However, at this point, it’s too soon. Why don’t you guys take online courses and perhaps in a year, we can revisit this?”

It’s a good compromise, he thinks. He hates fighting with Kili and Ori, because that’s not healthy for the family dynamic to always be at odds with each other. 

“Online courses sound like a really good idea,” Fili says, and he nudges Kili in the side. “What do you think, beloved?”

Kili makes a face and shakes his head. “I don’t really have any desire to go back to school, if I’m being honest. I didn’t do well at school when I was a human, and I don’t always have the best patience? I think me going back to school even in a year would probably not end well.”

Fili’s face lights up, and he leans over to give Kili a rather indecent kiss, but Dwalin won’t complain. It’s a good step in the right direction. It will make everything a lot easier if Kili knows his limits, and if he knows his weaknesses. Once a vampire knows that, he’s able to make sure that he doesn’t put himself in dangerous situations. They’re not given the luxury of being able to do whatever they want, spur of the moment. Every move they make is calculated, because they always have to focus on not only their safety, but the safety of the humans around them. 

The joys of living within a human society. 

“Perhaps I will speak with Elrond, and see if there are any vampire business owners within the Council,” Dwalin says, because he knows he should really make more of an effort with Kili. Holding him at arms’ length will only damage Dwalin’s relationship with Fili, and he loves Fili. He doesn’t want that to happen. “If there is one, perhaps they would have a position open and you would be able to work there. I wouldn’t be able to promise that it would be an exciting job… it could be as mundane as stocking shelves.”

“You’d do that for me?” Kili asks, and it’s a fair question. Dwalin hasn’t really made much attempts when it comes to Kili and befriending him. 

“Of course, that’s what you do for family,” Dwalin says, and he looks around the table, something tightening in his chest. Despite the fact that their clan has doubled in size, there is still a piece that is missing, and he will never feel fully settled until he has Nori sitting at his side. 

“I would appreciate if you could look into that for me,” Kili says, and he grins over at Dwalin. “I mean, I can only lay in bed all day for so many weeks before I get bored of that.”

Fili leans over and whispers something to Kili, but Dwalin wouldn’t even have to be supernatural to know that whatever he’s whispering is highly inappropriate. Balin and Ori both raise their eyebrows, but are too polite to say anything. Dwalin just rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll let you know what I find out,” he promises, and then shifts his attention over to Ori. “What about you, lad? Should I try to find you something as well?”

Ori’s already shaking his head before Dwalin is even finished speaking. “No, I don’t want to find some lowly job,” he says. “Before I became a vampire, I was enrolled into university, and worked really hard to keep good grades so I could have a successful future.”

“Ori, little gem,” Dori interrupts, and he casts Balin and Dwalin an apologetic look. “Surely you realize that your life has changed now. The future you originally had planned for yourself is no longer possible, and it’s time to make new plans.”

“I am making new plans,” Ori retorts. “I want to go back to school and learn as much as possible. Money was always limited to us, you raised me on skint, and I finally have access to a wealth I could never imagine – ”

“Hold it right there, Ori,” Dori interrupts again, and this time he’s scowling. “That money isn’t yours, it belongs to Balin, and to Dwalin. I’ve raised you better than to be so presumptuous to assume that it is yours to spend.”

“The money belongs to the clan,” Dwalin says, because they were already wealthy when they set out on this grand adventure, and the money has only accumulated and grown in the hundreds of years they’ve been doing this. It wouldn’t be right to keep the money just for themselves when they’ve accepted the rest into the family. 

“See?” Ori says, and his eyes have widened as he speaks passionately. “With this money, and being eternally stuck at this age, I could go to school for years and years! I might never have to work a day in my life, Dori. I could spend all my time learning! Imagine all the master degrees I could accomplish – more than anyone else in the world, I imagine.”

Dori’s face softens. “I know you love learning, my little gem, but hiding away in universities isn’t the answer. You will have to eventually become a functioning member of society.”

“If not the world’s society, than the vampire one,” Balin confirms. “We have no issue with you learning, Ori, but I’m afraid your brother is right. Spending all your years in universities is a nice dream, but I’m afraid there is much more to life than that, and we’re very excited to teach you.”

Ori’s face has grown grey and stormy, and he shoves his plate away from himself. “This is just like you,” he says, his voice trembling. “Any time I want something, any time I want something _really_ bad, you find a way to say no. It’s like you don’t want me to have any fun in life!”

“If you want to discuss this privately, then I am available for that,” Dori says tightly, and Dwalin has to admire his control. Although he supposes that after raising Ori since he was ten years old, Dori was quite used to arguing with his brother. 

“You’re smothering me, just like you’ve always done!” Ori shouts, and he jumps to his feet, baring his fangs at Dori. 

Dwalin immediately stands, because he’s never seen them fight before. Ori can’t fight the way he used to anymore, not when he could do real damage to Dori, and despite his current anger, Dwalin knows that Ori would be devastated if he was to seriously injure his brother. 

“Settle down, Ori,” he says warningly, cutting his eyes over to Balin, who nods briefly. He understands that if Ori is to attack, it will be Dwalin’s job to get to Ori, and it will be Balin’s job to remove Dori from the situation. 

They’ve talked about it at great lengths, because up until six months ago, they never had a human living with them before. Contingencies needed to be made, strategies learned. They talked about it a lot in the beginning of Ori’s transformation, back when it was so new to him, and they weren’t sure how he was going to react. However, Ori has adapted with ease to the supernatural world, and he’s never seen the pair of brothers do anything worse than light quarreling. 

“Don’t tell me to settle down!” Ori shouts. “I am so tired of taking orders from everyone who thinks that they know better than I do!”

“Ori, we do know better than you,” Dwalin says, and he means to follow it up with something kind, but it’s the wrong thing to say. Ori doesn’t even let him continue before he’s throwing his goblet of blood at Dwalin, and then lunging across the table at him. 

Sharp fangs snap in the air as Ori tries to bite him, and Dwalin roars in irritation, grabbing Ori by the throat and he slams him down on to the table. The table shudders in protest but ultimately holds, for Dwalin had purposefully purchased such a strong table. 

“Come, Dori,” he can hear Balin says, and Dori’s heart beats erratically in his chest as he follows Balin out of the kitchen and up the stairs, heading towards his room that has a steel enforced frame and door. 

They’ve never had to use it before. 

“Ori, calm down, mate,” Kili says, and he’s crouched beside Dwalin, his hand brushing down Ori’s arm. “It’s okay, you don’t need to be so upset.”

“Get off of me!” Ori shouts, twisting wildly underneath Dwalin’s grip. 

Dwalin tightens his hold and glares down at him. “Submit to my authority, Ori! This isn’t a request.”

“No! I want to go to school! I want a life!” Ori says, and he wrenches his head to the side, digging his fangs into Dwalin’s forearm. Black blood bubbles from the burst skin, and while it will heal relatively quick, it still hurts. 

Dwalin drags Ori to his feet and then slams him back down against the table, his head cracking into the wood. This time the table shatters into splinters of wood, and Dwalin follows Ori down to the floor. He ignores the blood that’s dripping down his arm, and bares his teeth once more at Ori. He’s never seen such an angry side to Ori before. 

He had taken to the supernatural world a lot easier than Kili had, and hadn’t seemed to mourn the loss of his humanity at all. He had eagerly jumped into learning everything Balin taught him, and had become a star pupil. His only weakness had been his affinity for human blood, he didn’t possess the reserves about it that Kili did, and it had been a struggle to switch him from human to animal blood. He had begrudgingly made the switch, though, and after a few moody days had seemed back to normal. 

Now Dwalin is left wondering where they went wrong, and what they’ve missed in Ori’s life for him to lash out like this. 

“Jesus, Ori,” Fili mutters, and he steps away from the debris. 

“Leave us,” Dwalin instructs, because it can be humiliating to be disciplined in front of others, and can often delay the rage process. Dwalin would like to see Ori calmed down, if he can. 

There’s a rustle as Fili and Kili leave the room, without any backtalk, and then it’s just Dwalin and Ori left. Dwalin studies the younger vampire in front of him, and thinks that perhaps he’s not the only one that’s missing Nori. However, Dwalin has lived hundreds of years, and has learned how to weather disappointment without acting out. Ori is still young, not even twenty years old. 

Jesus, Dwalin can’t even remember being twenty years old. 

He loosens his grip, just a little, and quirks his lips up at Ori. “Are you finished?” He asks, because he’s prepared to shove him back down if he isn’t. 

Ori’s silent as he debates about it before he finally gives a short jerk of his head. “Get off of me,” he mutters, still insolent. 

Dwalin removes his hand, keeping himself poised in case Ori lunges again, but Ori just rolls to his feet and brushes the wood splinters and food from his clothes. He’s still scowling, and it isn’t long until he directs that angry glare on to Dwalin. Dwalin resists the urge to roll his eyes and huff out an impatient breath. Raising a young vampire is a lot like raising children, he suspects, and he just doesn’t have the patience for it. 

“I’m sorry that you’re upset, and that you feel like we’re suffocating you. That has never been our intention,” Dwalin says, rising to his feet. “It’s not an insult when I say that I know better than you do, because it’s the _truth_ , Ori. I’ve had hundreds of years of practice at being a vampire, you’ve got six months under your belt. There’s no shame in learning.”

“I _have_ learned,” Ori argues. “I have excellent control, better than some old vampires, Balin said! I have read every single book you have, and have listened to Balin every day. I have practiced my restraint, and performed countless of exercises out in the world. I want to submerge myself back into the human world, Dwalin. I can’t stay cooped up in a house all day, no matter how nice it is.”

“There is a process to this, and you’re going to have to learn to be patient with it,” Dwalin says, surveying the damage of the table with a frown. He had really liked that table, dammit. “If everyone in the supernatural world ran amuck without a care, the whole world would know of us. That is why the Council exists, and that’s why there is an order and process to this.”

“I hate it,” Ori spits out, and turns away from Dwalin. “And I hate you for turning me into this.”

“That’s fine,” Dwalin says. The whole dining room will need to be cleaned, and they’ll have to replace the table. Luckily it’s just hardwood flooring underneath, and that’s held up against Dwalin’s strength. “Go to your room and have a shower. Cool down, and clean up.”

Ori’s upper lip curls. “You’re not the boss of me,” he says, but he stalks from the room before Dwalin can reply. 

Dwalin can hear his footsteps stomping their way upstairs, and then slamming his bedroom door shut. The minute it’s closed, Fili and Kili are sidling back into the dining room, and they’re silent as they begin to gather up dishes, stacking the dirty plates together. Dwalin’s grateful for the help, and he works on gathering up the pieces of the table so they can dispose of it. 

It’s silent as they work, making multiple trips to the kitchen before Kili finally speaks, kneeling on the floor as he gathers up macaroni salad with a slotted spoon. “You know, I don’t think that Ori reacted in the right way – ”

“Kili,” Fili says warningly. 

“I’m not excusing his behavior,” Kili insists, his gaze on Dwalin. “But I think he does have a point.”

“He absolutely has a point,” Dwalin agrees. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling drained. “However, there are things more important than Ori’s points, and even Ori’s wants. University is not a need, it’s a want. Keeping Ori safe from hunters, and keeping people safe from Ori… those are needs.”

“It’s not anything personal,” Fili says, and he lays a hand on Kili’s shoulder. It would be touching the way Kili immediately tilts his head, leaning his temple against Fili’s forearm, if it didn’t make something inside Dwalin’s stomach clench unpleasantly. “Everything Balin and Dwalin do for us… they do out of love. I know it is difficult to accept at times, because you are not used to submitting to authority – ” they exchange a glance and snorts of laughter, there must be some story there that Dwalin isn’t privy to – “but you’ll learn in time. By the time you’re a hundred, you will accept Balin as your patriarch without a second thought, and Ori will get there as well.”

Dwalin smiles, and hopes that Fili had a happy transition, and that he had never resented them like Ori does. However, Fili had a week of living on the streets, murdering countless of people in his blood thirst, and he hadn’t stopped to think about what he was doing. The venom inside of his veins had burned brightly, overriding all rational thought, and he had been _relieved_ to have Dwalin find him, and take him home. 

“I hope so,” Kili says, and he absently runs his fingers through his long, dark hair. Dwalin watches the action, mesmerized, and it morphs into rusty red hair. He shivers and blinks hard, ridding the image from his mind. “I’ll talk to Ori with Fili once Dwalin thinks it’s okay,” he says, and something relaxes in Dwalin’s chest. 

Kili has already come such a long way in such a short period of time, and perhaps there is hope for him yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!

About once every two to three weeks, Nori will spend his day off taking the train from Cardiff to Paris, France. It’s only once he’s lost himself in a café in the French city that he feels comfortable pulling out his laptop and checking his email, his regular account that used to contain his entire life. It’s not safe checking it in Cardiff, not when he could be hacked and his location easily pinpointed. Instead, he rotates cafes and hotels, bouncing around the city with ease, always glancing over his shoulder. Perhaps it’s super paranoid of him, but Nori has learned not to take any chances. 

He was too involved with the Company for anything else. 

It’s only an hour and a half train ride, which gives him time to sleep, and people watch. Sometimes he’ll crack open a paperback, and flip through it slowly as he lets the conversations around him rise and fall, lulling him into a quiet comfort. It’s a lonely existence, but Nori has learned how to be alone, and it doesn’t feel so bad. 

The only thing that’s missing are his brothers, and there’s a sharp pang in his chest whenever he thinks of them. He hopes that Ori is dead, and Dori is building a new life somewhere else, because he cannot picture a world where his little brother rips innocent throats open and drinks their blood. 

The train gets into Paris before noon, and it’s a beautiful sunny day with a slight breeze to it. Nori disembarks and makes his way to his favourite café, _Lacroix Patissier_. He only lets himself visit every couple of months, because even in a large city like Paris he doesn’t let himself form a routine. He settles into his seat with a caramel macchiato, pulling a slim laptop out of his backpack. He hotspots it to his cell phone, and pulls up Google Chrome. He always has a moment of hesitation when he does this, because he never knows what to expect. The first couple of months he had a ton of emails, most of them threatening from the Company, but it had taken him so long to work up the courage to even check his email that by the time he did, it didn’t really scare him. The emails had trickled out to almost nothing, but yet Nori still makes time to come all the way to Paris, just to check his email. 

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. It’s not like he ever exchanged his information with Dwalin. He never gave him his phone number, or his email address, or anything that would allow Dwalin to contact him. Aand yet he still has that foolish hope that someday he will log in and see something from him. 

His email opens and he has six unread emails. However, Nori nearly chokes on a mouthful of his drink as he views the recipient of the newest email, sent less than twenty-four hours ago. 

_Ori._

He had hoped, for the most part, that his baby brother was dead, because Nori didn’t think he was suited to a supernatural life. Ori had always been naïve and vulnerable, and he wasn’t born to be a monster. He wouldn’t adapt well, and it would only be a matter of time until some hunter put him down. He didn’t want any other hunter profiting off the head of his brother, of his little gem. 

His hands trembling, Nori first pauses to look around the little café. There are two employees behind the counter, visiting with each other and the French language flows over his ears like a lazy river. There’s two older women sitting at a table by the window, and they’re scrolling through photos on a cell phone. There’s no one else in here, and surely no one is watching him. Surely he can be weak in this moment, and instead of hitting delete… he opens the email. 

_I don’t know if you will even see this, but I miss you. There’s so much I want to tell you, but I know I can’t. Dori told me you have forsaken us, and I didn’t think that would ever happen. We’re brothers, Nori, and I don’t understand how you can cut me out of your life. How do you not need me the way I need you? It doesn’t seem fair, but that seems to be the motto for my life lately. The suffocation is slowly killing me, and I wish I could come to Bristol like I used to._

_You never told me any of your secrets, but that’s okay. I think I was better off not knowing. Instead, coming to Bristol was an escape from Dori’s constant mothering, and it gave me a chance to experience independence and freedom. You were the older brother I often needed, and always wanted to be like. I don’t want to be like you anymore, not if you hate me. I will never be that person._

_I miss you, Nori, and I wish you could come home._

There’s a tightness in his throat, and his eyes are stinging. The laptop screen in front of him swims as he clears his throat, blinking rapidly. Clearing his throat, he types rapidly, his fingers flying over the keys as he performs keystroke after keystroke. In less than three minutes, Nori has managed to tell that Ori sent the email from an IP address that is located in Richmond, British Columbia. 

He wrinkles his nose as he stares at his screen. How did his brother end up all the way in Canada? Ori’s never even left the country before, and suddenly he’s a globe trotter? He wouldn’t have gone alone, so perhaps Dori has gone with him. Although, Ori is a monster now, and there is little chances he’s been able to deny himself a taste of Dori’s warm, rich human blood. 

Perhaps he does have a dead brother, but it is Dori, and Ori has become something completely unrecognizable. 

Nori’s going to have to go to Richmond and find out for sure. If Ori really is terrorizing people, and taking innocent lives, then it will be up to Nori to end the suffering of his brother. The little brother that he knew and loved as a child is gone, and Nori doesn’t know this monster. 

All he knows is that it’s his job to put it down, to put it and Dwalin both down. 

It takes him less than two days to pack up his entire life in Cardiff. He sells off his various items of furniture, and stores all the money in a second banking account he opened a few years ago. He stops by the church, and that’s the only part that does hurt, because Nori had come to enjoy the manual labor of keeping the church clean. It had connected him closer to his mother, and he’ll miss that. 

He will not miss Father Galion’s perceptive gaze, though, and so he eagerly approaches his office. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Father Galion,” he says, knocking on the open doorjamb. “I know today’s my day off, but I’ve had a family emergency come up, and I’m afraid I’ve got to go.”

He figures that’s pretty close to the truth.

“Well, Nori, I am so sorry to hear that,” Father Galion says, and he rises from where he’s been seated behind his desk. “I hope everything is all right. Do you know how long you’ll expect to be? I trust it’s nothing serious.”

“All I know is that it’s serious, and that I’ll be gone for a while,” Nori says, because he’s not going to give Father Galion any clues as to where he’s from, or where he’s headed. He doesn’t know how involved the priest is with the supernatural world, but he has learned not to take any chances. “I’ve got to go back home to Leeds. You’re best to probably replace me here, since I can’t prove to be reliable right now.”

“Well, Nori, I am so sorry to hear that,” Father Galion says again, and he thankfully doesn’t come any closer. “You had started a great work here, and I pray that it continues with you wherever you may go.”

Nori resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I know,” he says, and jams his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Thanks for the opportunity, I really liked working here. Is it possible to get my final pay day? I’m leaving the city tonight.”

One thing Nori had insisted on when finding a job was securing a place of employment that was willing to cut him cheques for payment, rather than direct deposit. He didn’t like giving any place of employment any more links to him, even if they did believe him to be Norris Bohen, an identity he will soon shed for the skin of Norris Bingham.

Father Galion studies him for a moment, a minute that stretches uncomfortably long, and Nori resists the urge to twitch. Finally, Father Galion dips his head in a nod. “Of course, Norris. Sister Margaret didn’t come in today, she has a touch of the flu. However, I should be able to calculate it for you, and sign the cheque.”

“Thank you,” Nori says fervently, and he means it. He’s never been wealthy, that had always been Bofur, and Gloin, but he’s done all right for himself. Now that’s all come to an end, and money’s been tight ever since. 

He walks with Father Galion to the little office at the front of the church, and shifts nervously on his feet as Father Galion writes out the cheque and then signs it. He tears it from the book and folds it once, holding it out to Nori. 

“Norris, may I pray for you before you go?”

Nori’s tempted to say no, since prayer doesn’t do a lick of good if you don’t believe in whatever you’re praying to, but he doesn’t want to be rude. This man has given him a chance when he didn’t know that Nori didn’t deserve one, and despite his intense gaze, he’s been a kind and fair manager towards Nori. 

“Sure,” he says, because the last person that prayed over him was his mother, and it seems right to say goodbye to her in such a manner. 

Father Galion drifts over to him and places his hand on Nori’s shoulder, his fingers digging in to the bone, and Nori forces himself not to flinch. There’s something about the priest that Nori just doesn’t trust, and he’s not going to reveal any weaknesses to him. 

Father Galion lifts his other hand and makes the sign of the cross above their heads, his low voice beginning to murmur, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit… Lord, we thank you here for Norris, and for the great work he has begun here. We are saddened to see him leave so early, but we know that everything is in Your timing, and in Your hands. We pray for Norris’ family emergency, and that everything will be resolved to Your good. I ask You to bless Norris, and to keep him safe. There is a storm warring over his soul, Lord, and we trust You with Norris. For this I pray… amen.”

Nori feels hot all over, and he stammers out a quick thank you before he’s pulling away from the priest, shoving the cheque into his pocket as he hurries out of the church doors. It’s a good reminder as to why he hates prayer – it always twists something low uncomfortably in his belly, and he feels flushed all over. 

He goes back to his flat and opens his computer, using his new identity of Norris Bingham to book a one way flight to Vancouver International Airport for that evening’s flight. The flat is mostly empty, only a couch and bookcase remains, and Nori plans on leaving it here. The landlord can either toss it in the bin, or use it for the next tenants. 

Either way, it can’t come with Nori to Canada. 

He pulls the cheque out of his pocket, and blinks in surprise. He had been owed roughly just over four hundred pounds, and yet the cheque is written out for a thousand pounds evenly. He swallows hard, his chest clenching. It’s the first kind thing that somebody has done for him in a very long time. 

His flight is long but uneventful. There is a stop in Dublin, long enough that Nori is able to disembark from the plane and wander around the terminal, stretching his legs. It’s been a while since he has flown anywhere, and he’s always hated being cooped out on a plane that has nary an escape route. He thinks he’s watched too many movies about plane heists, because he always takes a second look at anyone who even dares to move. 

Twenty-two hours after departing from Cardiff, Wales, Nori lands in Vancouver and sets foot on Canadian soil. In a span of only four days, he has gone from living a comfortable life in his little flat, working steadily at the church, to uprooting everything and travelling across the world. It’s not a glamorous life, being on the run, but it’s the only life Nori’s got, and he’d like to keep it. 

He doesn’t really know why he’s come to Canada. He had told Dori that Ori was dead to him, that he would kill him before he would ever befriend him. Now that he knows Ori is actually alive, he’s not so sure anymore. This is the longest he has gone without speaking to Dori, and he feels unsettled to know that could end soon, that he might face Dori and have to somehow make amends. Provided that Dori is even alive, that is.

And that’s if he can even find them. The supernatural world is unfortunately, very apt at remaining hidden, and Ori’s IP address had only indicated that he was somewhere in Richmond, a suburb of Vancouver. He could have been at a restaurant, at a friend’s location, or perhaps his home. Finding him in such a large city will prove to be difficult. It’s moments like this that make Nori miss the Company. If they had a target, they would round up a ground of them, canvassing the area until someone got a lead, and then they would track the vampire until habits were formed, and routines established. It was then that in a moment of weakness they’d strike, and profit off the loss of another monster in the world. 

This time is very different, this time it’s just Nori that is trying to find the monsters, and this time… he’s not sure that they are monsters. 

It takes him two days to recover from jet-lag, and he spends his time holed up in the Radisson, a hotel that’s close to the airport. He orders in room service and take out, adjusting to the Canadian currency, and staying properly awake. He watches a lot of trashy television, including reality cooking shows. He keeps a chair wedged under the handle of his hotel room door, and sleeps peacefully for the first time in years. 

He’s going stir crazy by the fourth day, and so he finally takes a long shower in the bathroom and winds his damp hair up into a braid so it’s out of his face. He dresses carefully, making sure to keep all his weapons concealed, since he doesn’t have a permit in Canada to be carrying any of these, and the last thing he needs is to be taken to prison for unwanted questioning. 

Securing all his documents and bundles of money in the safe, Nori tucks his Norris Bingham ID into his wallet, along with a little bit of cash, and heads for the streets of Richmond to fully explore this new city that he’s found himself in. 

He walks a couple of blocks from his hotel, mindlessly walking without a destination in mind. He has no desire to look over his shoulder at every second step, because he highly doubts that anyone from the Company was able to track him from London to Cardiff, and then from Cardiff to Vancouver. He feels a bit safer here, and it’s a nice feeling. 

In fact, he could spend years here looking for Ori, and not get bored if it meant that he felt comfortable and safe. 

As it stands, it takes Nori less than three weeks to be bored out of his mind. He only lasted a week in the hotel before it became too expensive, and so he rents a little flat in Burnaby. Every day he takes the bus or Skytrain to Richmond, and spends his days exploring the streets and wandering around. Eventually he hopes to see Ori, but each day yields no response. 

He opens a new email account so he can send a message to Ori, but eventually decides against it. He doesn’t know if Ori’s email account is compromised, and he doesn’t want to give the Company any further leverage against him. Plus, if Nori’s original account is hacked, they’ll see that Ori emailed him, and that Nori never responded. He had marked it unread once he was finished, because he wasn’t stupid. 

He wanted the Company to genuinely believe that Nori has forsaken his family, even if apparently that’s not the case anymore. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. When Ori had first been shot, and bleeding out on the floor, Nori had desperately tried to think of a way to save him. And then when Kili had told Dori that it wasn’t too late, and Ori could yet still be saved, something fierce and angry had burned inside of Nori, because he had dedicated his life to ridding the world of supernatural creatures. 

Dori knew this, and yet he allowed Ori to become one anyway, effectively cutting Nori out of their life. 

Dori had always wanted Nori out of their lives. Growing up, he had resented Nori for leaving when their mother died, leaving Dori to raise Ori alone. Then he had discovered exactly how Nori made his money, and he hadn’t understood. He didn’t realize the world was full of monsters, and it was a necessary evil to put them down. 

The more he thinks about it, the more Nori is convinced that Dori allowed Ori to be turned as a way to get Nori out of their lives for good. Every time Nori had reached out and asked if Ori could come stay with him, there had been an issue. Either it didn’t work with Ori’s school scheduling, or Dori already had something arranged for them. It got easier the older Ori got, because then Ori was able to insert his own opinion, and Dori had a tougher time saying no to him than he did to Nori. 

For all of Nori’s many flaws, Ori had been crazy about him, and had idolized him. In turn, Nori had sheltered Ori from the life he led, and had kept their visits relaxing and fun, showing him how great it was to have some freedom. Every taste of independence he gave Ori solidified it in his mind that he needed to move out, and when he was ready for university, he had left Dori’s home and had found his own, sharing it with Kili. 

Sighing, Nori rubs a hand over his face. Now Ori is out there somewhere, probably with Dori still perhaps, and they’re still out of Nori’s reach. 

He wonders if they’re with Dwalin, and what Dwalin would think if he knew that Nori was in the same city as him. 

Every now and then, Nori will close his eyes, and he will see the look on Dwalin’s face as Nori had spit out the hot, angry words that he wasn’t sure if he had even meant. He had broken Dwalin’s heart in that moment, but he has to force himself not to care. Dwalin is a vampire, and isn’t capable of love. He isn’t human, and love is such a unique concept available only to humanity. Dwalin gave up his chance for love the minute he had become a vampire, and Nori doesn’t even know him well enough to know if it was a choice or not. 

He hopes that it wasn’t, because at least that would show that Dwalin was making the best out of a bad situation, even if he didn’t realize just yet how much better it would be if he was dead. 

He’s absolutely bored out of his skull in Richmond, and is left wondering what he’s supposed to do with his life. There’s no sign of his family here, and surely it’s ridiculous to expect that Nori will just hang around the city forever, waiting for a scrap of information to come his way. For all he knows, Ori had only been here briefly, and is already back across the world. 

He could go back to Cardiff, Father Galion would probably offer him his job back if it wasn’t filled already. He could settle back into his little flat, and the little life he had carved for himself as Norris Bohen. 

Filled with indecision and irritation, Nori decides to take a break and takes the Skytrain right into the heart of Vancouver. He wanders around for a bit before he stops at The Flying Wedge, mostly because the name tickles him. He hops up on a stool, one that overlooks the sidewalk so he can people watch as he eats his slice of pizza. 

He’s just nibbling on the crust when he pauses, sure his eyes are playing tricks on him. It’s dark, but the lights are shining brightly, and Nori would recognize that figure anywhere. The crust of pizza falls from his greasy fingers as Dwalin walks past the window and ducks inside the library. Nori’s still frozen on his stool, for he’s been here almost a month now, and hasn’t had a lick of luck finding Ori. Why is Dwalin here at the library?

His senses kick into overdrive, and Nori wipes his hands on to a napkin. He forces himself to keep his breathing steady, and his movements even and calm. He carries his trash to the bin and dumps it, offering the young teenager behind the till a smile and a wave as he exits out the door. He walks carefully, following Dwalin inside of the library. 

Tension is running high inside his body, and he’s careful not to look around and make himself a target. He doesn’t know if anyone is following him, but there’s a good chance of it. It seems slim that he would just suddenly stumble upon Dwalin of all people. It seems like a cruel joke, like someone has steered Dwalin directly into Nori’s path, and now they’re sitting back and watching to see what happens. 

Nori resists the urge to snarl. He’ll show them what’s going to happen, and he’ll show them how strong he is. 

He may be a weakness of Dwalin’s, but the old vampire is no weakness of Nori’s. He has a poisoned blade tucked into the calf of his boot, and he’s not afraid to use it. In fact, he will use it today. He will track Dwalin down to the book stacks and slide it into his ribs, peering around so Dwalin can see just who it is that’s robbing him of his life. 

And yet Nori explores the entire library, examining every single nook and cranny, and Dwalin is nowhere to be found.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I didn't forget about this fic, I have it all mapped out. I just got slightly sidetracked with a new, tiny fandom. Once again, no beta, so all mistakes are my own!

Dwalin lifts a hand to his mouth, covering the yawn that finally pushes past the last of his defenses and gets out. He’s not tired, necessarily, but he’s certainly tired of this conversation, and he doesn’t how to politely remove himself from it. He clears his throat and lowers his hand, forcing himself to appear interested in the discussion once more. 

“I think perhaps the best course of action would be to simply retreat into hiding and focus on rebuilding your clan,” one vampire says to Gandalf and Radagast, who are standing beside Dwalin. 

They’re at a special Council meeting, one for those that are interested in the destruction of Smaug the Firebreather, who has killed half of Gandalf’s clan, and is lurking somewhere in Vancouver. Dwalin does his best to stay out of wars, he has his own battles to focus on, but life is relatively calm for them right now, and his heart goes out to Gandalf. It would be as if someone wiped Balin and Fili from him, and he would not be able to stand that pain. 

He would want revenge as well, and so he will help give it if he can. 

“Every day we look over our shoulder, expecting to see him there,” Gandalf says, his mouth twisting down into a frown. “No, I think sitting back and doing nothing will not solve matters, but perhaps only expedite them. We are still in hopes that Saruman will be found and restored to us once more.”

“Have you had any leads on his whereabouts?” Dwalin asks, and he wishes that Nori hadn’t forsaken him, for Nori would be an asset to this situation. 

Nori has been hunting vampires for years, if only he could twist those skills he has learned and used them for the better good, seeking out those that want to hurt law abiding vampires. Of course, the supernatural community would have had a difficult time accepting Nori, for Nori had made quite the name for himself. It’s probably best that they hadn’t tried to make things work, because Dwalin doesn’t see a way where it would have ever been possible. 

“No, it is like he has disappeared without a trace,” Radagast says, and it’s a surprise to hear him speak. Gandalf is clearly the leader of their clan, and Radagast has mostly stayed quiet throughout the interactions Dwalin has had with them. 

“I know that many of you believe him to be dead, but I can still feel him,” Gandalf says, and he glances upwards. “The clan lines are strong, for we have spent many years together, and I can still feel him there on the edges.”

“I didn’t mean Saruman, but I meant Samug,” Dwalin says, and he shifts. They’ve been down here for an hour now, and he’s ready to leave. “You tracked him here to Vancouver, do you know why he is here? Perhaps he has some associates in the area.”

“Yes, we have constant surveillance on him, and he’s currently holed up in Langley with four other men,” Gandalf says. “I think the time is drawing closer where we approach him. I am tired of following him, I want answers. He knows where Saruman is, and I want to find him.”

“Then we will flush him out,” Elrond decides. “We will arrange an attack, and ensure that he is taken alive. We will bring him back to the Council where we will question him thoroughly and exact the answers that we desire from him.”

“And you are sure that he only has four other associates here?” Dwalin clarifies, because Smaug himself is a difficult hunter. Dwalin does not want to walk into a situation unaware. 

“Yes, we have had extensive tracking on him, and we are confident,” Gandalf says. “I do believe that Radagast and I could take them on, but we are grateful for any further help.”

“Of course we will help you,” Elrond says. “Any hunter that threatens the supernatural community must be made to stand for their crimes. Dwalin, how many from your clan may we include?”

Dwalin bristles, because he has discussed this with Elrond. He knows the Council leader is eager to see the young vampires in action, but Dwalin will not throw them into battle again. Kili has already fought once, and he lost almost everything in his life because of it. Dwalin will protect their youth while he can, and train them up properly like he did with Fili. 

“Just myself,” he says evenly. “My clan is too young and inexperienced to take on a threat like Smaug the Firebreather. Perhaps in time they will be ready, but as of now, I will not risk their safety.”

Elrond is silent for a moment before he finally dips his head in acknowledgement. “Very well. We appreciate your help, you have proven to be a formidable adversary.”

“Thank you,” Dwalin says, and he rolls his shoulders. 

It will feel good to hurt a hunter, to wrap his hand around their throat and lift them up off the floor so he can see the whites of their eyes before he drains them of their blood. And every time that he closes his eyes and imagines it, somehow it’s always Nori that he’s holding.

***

It’s a Wednesday night, and so they make a plan to meet here on Friday night at eight pm sharp, weaponized to the teeth. They will attack Smaug that night, and see what information they cannot gleam from him. With the plan in place, Dwalin makes his excuses to leave, and heads towards the exit.

“Excuse me,” a voice calls to him right before he steps outside, and Dwalin pauses, turning towards the sound. It’s Tilda, the young vampire that had caught Ori’s eye before. 

“Can I help you?” he asks. He has zero patience with her, but is forcing himself to be kind. It wouldn’t do to alienate allies, just because he has suffered heartache. 

“I was wondering if you would be able to get in contact with your young friend for me,” she says, pushing her dark hair over her shoulder. She has bold, burgundy lipstick on it, and every time she speaks, Dwalin can see a hint of fangs. “I hope that’s not too forward of me.”

Dwalin’s lips quirk up, because from what he has seen of Ori, he will need someone that is a little forward. The young vampire has typically proven to be laid back and relaxed, although they went through a little rough patch a month ago. He doesn’t know what had gotten Ori so upset, but ever since that evening, Ori has slowly gone back to his regular self that Dwalin has gone to know. 

“I’m not cupid, and I’m not a message boy,” Dwalin retorts. So much for playing nice. “He will be here at the next Council meeting, why don’t you speak to him then?”

“I had thought of that, but there is a party that I’ve been invited to, and I would hate to show up solo,” she says, cocking an eyebrow. “Surely you can understand that.”

“I’ll pass your number on,” Dwalin says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He pulls out his phone and carefully saves the number she gives him. He promises again to tell Ori about the party and about Tilda, and she finally lets him exit out of the library. 

His mind is swirling with distractions, but the moment he steps out into society, his senses hone in and he immediately pushes everything else to the back. Dwalin has spent years learning that he can’t ever let his defenses down, and tonight is no different. His mind sharpening, he glances around the street before he begins to walk right towards the bus stop. 

There’s a sound of a car horn, and laughter to the left of them, and Dwalin’s just about to step off the sidewalk when the most delicious scent assaults his nostrils. Slamming to a stop, Dwalin breathes in deeply through his nose, and his gums burn as his fangs long to punch out. He would recognize that smell anywhere, and it’s been seven, long, terrible months since he’s had it cloying his nostrils. 

_Nori_. 

Dwalin’s eyes begin to sweep the sidewalk, scanning up and down, examining the face of every person, the walk of every person. And then, finally, just when he’s about to give up and declare that he’s wrong… he sees a figure half-way down the block. The figure is walking away from Dwalin, but he would know the curve of those shoulders anywhere, the exact shade of rusty red hair. 

He’s moving before he even realizes that he is, and inside, his mind is screaming at him. He should be melting into the background and phoning Balin, telling him they have a problem. He should be heading back inside the library and finding the Council, asking for their assistance. He doesn’t have the heart to put Nori down, but a vampire inside would. 

He snarls at the thought of anyone trying to lay a hand on Nori, on _his_ Nori. Nori has clearly proven to be Dwalin’s biggest weakness, and when Nori is wrenching his head from his body, Dwalin will probably think back to this moment with regret. 

How is Nori even here? Last time Dwalin had seen him, it had been halfway across the world in London. They’ve tried their best to erase their existences for a bit, lying low until the threats are gone. Nori shouldn’t know that they are here, unless someone told him. And there is only a few very select handful that know who Nori is to Dwalin and his clan. 

Nori is clearly distracted by something, holding a phone in his hand, and his two thumbs are flying over the touch screen. He glances up every now and then, just to ensure he probably isn’t running into anyone, but he never looks behind himself, which gives Dwalin time to slowly make his way up behind him. 

He trails behind Nori for a few steps until there is a break in the buildings, the pavement dipping down as it breaks into an alleyway. Dwalin waits until Nori has just moved into the gap and then he grabs him by the shoulder and throws him as hard as he can. Nori goes flying down the alleyway, his phone leaving his hand, and he slides to a stop. 

He’s not down long, for as much as Dwalin took him by surprise, Nori is quick to rally. He scrambles to his feet, pulling a blade from the calf of his boot. His eyes widen when Dwalin steps into the alleyway, rolling his shoulders. 

They stare at each other in silence, neither of them making a first move. Dwalin wants to go to him, he wants to go and drop to his knees. He wants to feel Nori’s hand sliding around the back of his neck, his voice murmuring that it’s okay, that Dwalin is home. He wants so much with Nori, and yet he will never get it. Nori used him, Nori took advantage of the sacred bond that they share, and how can Dwalin ever forgive that sort of betrayal?

Nori is the first to speak, his voice trembling but his hands steady. “Where are my brothers?”

It’s like an arrow to his heart, confirmation that Nori didn’t come to find him. No, he came to find Dori and Ori, and Dwalin was a fool to believe that there was even a smidgen of hope. 

“You will not hurt them,” he says, letting his true nature rise close to the surface. His gums itch with the need to descend, and he can smell Nori’s blood even though there is distance between them. He wants to grab Nori by his hair and drag him close, yanking his head back to expose the column of his throat where his scent is the richest. 

Nori sneers at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t have to answer your question,” Dwalin retorts, and he steps closer, walking fully into the alleyway. He’s an idiot to try and take Nori on alone. “How did you find us?”

A delightful little smile dances over Nori’s features, and the grin he gives Dwalin is full of teeth. Despite not having fangs, it seems razor sharp all the same. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he taunts, switching the blade to his other hand. “Wouldn’t you just like to fucking know!”

Dwalin growls, because if there is a weakness in his family, if there is a leak… then he needs to plug it up. 

“Your brothers are good people, and don’t deserve your twisted idea of retribution,” he says, walking even closer. He’s drawn to Nori, and can’t help himself. “If you came here solely to kill Ori, then I would beg of you to reconsider, Nori. He’s happy, he’s settling into a new life, and he hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s not a danger to society.”

A look of something flickers across Nori’s face. Relief, perhaps? “You’re an idiot if you think I’m going to trust the word of a monster,” Nori says, and he takes a step back, a step away from Dwalin, because Nori is no fool. Between the pair of them, he doesn’t suffer from the same weakness that Dwalin does, and their bond does not call to him the way it does to Dwalin. 

Dwalin snarls at the term. He is sick of Nori calling him a monster when he has done nothing to warrant the title. He sniffs the air, and smells something bitter and acrid. His gaze goes to the blade, and there’s a sheen on the steel that should not normally be there. His heart clenches at the knowledge that despite everything, Nori still wants to kill him. 

“Did you poison the tip?” He asks flatly, nodding his head towards the knife. “Did you poison it to use specifically on me?”

“You or Ori… it didn’t really matter,” Nori says, and he’s scowling. “That element of surprise is gone, but I’ll still knife you, monster.”

It’s becoming rapidly clear to Dwalin that despite the complex feelings he has for Nori, they are not returned, not even in the slightest. There is not a stitch of doubt in Nori’s mind regarding him, and he will kill Dwalin, and his clan, the first moment he can. Dwalin is going to have to push away his personal feelings, and dredge up the cruelty he knows that resides deep in his heart. 

He is going to have to kill Nori himself, and he’s going to have to do it today. 

Rolling his shoulders, Dwalin takes another step closer. He’s always respected Nori, and respected their soulmate bond. He’s never exploited it like Nori has, and he’s never used it against Nori before. Likely, there’s a chance that Nori doesn’t even realize that it _can_ be used against him, even if he is a human. There’s a bond between them, and all fair bets are off the table now. 

Dwalin is going to exploit the shit out of their bond. 

“Nori,” he calls, and his deep voice has deepened further, twisting into something a little more melodious. He’s never used his additional skills for evil before, because despite whatever Nori believes, Dwalin isn’t a monster, and never has been. 

Balin had turned him under strict orders that he was not to hurt anyone, and he kept Dwalin away in isolation inside Moria Manor until he was confident that Dwalin was in control of himself. He had weaned him from a human blood diet to an animal one quite quickly, and a life of peace is one that Dwalin has always known. 

He’s never had to use his skills for anything but good, but this will be good too. It’s clear to him now that Nori will not stop until he is dead, and it’s time to end this song and dance. Any possibly chances of a future filled with joy are gone, and Dwalin is no idiot. If he is going to kill Nori – and that _is_ what’s going to happen today – then surely it’s not a crime that he takes his pleasure from him first. 

Drinking the blood of his soulmate, draining him dry… that will sustain Dwalin for fucking years. 

Nori takes a step closer towards Dwalin, and then scowls at himself for it. “Stop it,” he says shortly. “Don’t use that tone on me.”

“Come here, Nori,” Dwalin says coaxingly, and he holds out a hand towards him as he begins to walk closer towards Nori. 

The sound of Vancouver traffic has drifted away, and the only thing Dwalin can hear is the frantic heartbeat of Nori’s heart. He breathes deeply, regret squeezing his lungs tightly so it feels like he’s suffocating. He doesn’t want to do this – he doesn’t want to kill Nori. He doesn’t have any choice though, not if it means saving his family. He cannot put his own personal, selfish desires above the safety of his family. 

“Stop it,” Nori says, his mouth twisting, but his feet are stumbling towards Dwalin. 

He’s finally within his grasp, and Dwalin reaches out to slide his hand around the back of Nori’s neck. His skin is hot underneath Dwalin’s fingertips, and Nori’s pale eyelashes flutter at the contact. It makes Dwalin’s stomach twist, knowing that Nori is so affected by his touch. He wishes he could spread Nori out and show him how good it could _really_ feel. 

“Dwalin…” Nori says, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. “Dwalin… I’m going to _kill_ you,” he spits out in a hard voice, spinning away from Dwalin, his blade slicing through the air. 

Dwalin deftly ducks out of the way and lifts his arm, slamming it down against Nori’s forearm, parrying the swing. Nori gasps as the blade clatters from his hand, and Dwalin is quick to kick it away. Nori jerks as if to follow it, but it goes skidding underneath a dumpster. 

Breathing hard, Nori whirls back around to face Dwalin, his eyes glittering. He’s a fighter, and won’t go down easily, but his hand to hand strength is no match against Dwalin’s supernatural skills. 

He grabs the back of Nori’s neck again, dragging him closer. The tip of Nori’s toes crunch against the gritty pavement, and his eyes are wide. His hair feels silky underneath Dwalin’s touch, and he runs his fingers through it like a river that’s on fire. It’s impossible to hold on to, just like Nori himself, and so Dwalin curls his fingers into a fist. The motion anchors himself in Nori’s hair, and he yanks his head back to expose Nori’s pale throat. 

Nori’s heartbeat is jackhammering like a rabbit’s, Dwalin wouldn’t even need his supernatural hearing to hear it. His pulse is thudding in his throat, and Dwalin leans down to press his lips against it. Nori stifles a gasp, trembling underneath him. He’s absolutely terrified, and it suddenly makes Dwalin sick to his core to know that he has caused such a reaction in Nori. Disgusted with himself, Dwalin shoves Nori away. The scent of Nori still permeates his nostrils, and he smells like cloying fear. 

Dwalin hates himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he grits out, rubbing his hand against his eyes. He needs to eliminate the threat, he knows this, but this isn’t the right way to do it. Having Nori’s last moments of life being pure terror isn’t right, and Dwalin can’t do it. “I should not have done that, and I’m sorry, Nori.”

There’s movement beside him, and Dwalin jerks his hand away. How could he have been so stupid to let his defenses down? Of course Nori wouldn’t carry just one blade, he’s probably armed to the teeth, and while Dwalin is exceptionally difficult to kill… Nori seems up to the challenge. 

There’s a whistle in the air, the only warning he gets, and he drops into a defensive crouch, the knife just missing his ear. Nori lunges forward again, and this time he does catch Dwalin’s arm, slicing the back of his forearm open, and black blood bubbles to the surface. It stings sharply, more so than usual, and that’s when he notices the blade is tipped in a brown liquid sheen. 

Poison. 

“You want me dead so badly that you would poison two blades, would you?” He says, and he rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck. He didn’t plan on killing Nori in the back of an alley, and yet that’s what’s going to happen here. 

“Of course I want you dead,” Nori sneers, and he lunges forward again. 

Dwalin darts out of the way and swings his arm behind himself, his elbow catching Nori right between the shoulder blades. His breath leaves him in a gasp, and he stumbles forward, giving Dwalin ample time to swing around and wrap his hand around Nori’s wrist, squeezing hard. 

His hand spasms as he’s forced to let go of the knife, otherwise he’ll risk Dwalin breaking his hand, and Dwalin knows Nori is smarter than that. It’s a lot harder to kill a vampire when you’ve got broken bones. Nori suddenly clicks his heels together, and then his right leg is soaring up and kicking Dwalin right in the back of his thigh. The tip of Nori’s boots has a sharp blade, and it tears through Dwalin’s flesh like dry paper. 

Dwalin grunts in irritated pain. He tightens his grip on Nori’s wrist, and jerks him close again. His fangs are at the tip of the surface, and he wants nothing more than to let them punch out and dig deep into the sweet tendons of Nori’s neck. He pushes that desire away, and focuses on what’s important – killing Nori. 

“I hate that you make me hurt you, when all I’ve ever wanted to do was protect you,” he murmurs. “I would do anything for you, Nori.”

Nori’s upper lip sneers at that, and he jerks against Dwalin’s hold. Dwalin brings up his other hand, this one sliding behind Nori’s neck once more, and he’s pinned, immobilized, now. “You would drain me dry like the monster that you are.”

“No,” Dwalin says, shaking his head. “I would have died for you, Nori. You are the other half of my soul, and while it means nothing to you… it means _everything_ to me.”

He pushes Nori away from him, because he should have known better than to think that he was capable of killing his soul mate. There is a bond between them that Dwalin cannot violate, regardless of how little Nori cares for him. Nori is human, and susceptible to his human emotions. Dwalin cannot claim the same – he knows better, and therefore, should _do_ better. 

“You’re saying that you would not harm me? You wouldn’t drink my blood if you could?” There’s heavy skepticism in Nori’s voice, and he scoffs. 

“Your blood would taste sweeter than honey, sweeter than wine to me, but no. Your blood is sacred to me, and I would do nothing to see you harm.” Dwalin shakes his head. 

What a mess this has become. He should have turned back inside and gotten Elrond to do the job for him. It’s clear that Nori doesn’t wish for a future with Dwalin, they have no opportunity for a happily ever after like Fili and Kili, but it still hurts all the same. 

There’s movement beside him, and he turns to see Nori standing beside him, and there is a look on Nori’s face that he’s never ever seen before, not even when he was helping Nori find his baby brother, and Nori had been so grateful for it. He doesn’t understand the look on Nori’s face right now, not when it’s one of vulnerability, and it causes Dwalin’s own defenses to go soaring up. 

“Nori – ” he starts, but Nori claps a hand up against Dwalin’s mouth, and that alone is enough to freeze Dwalin. Nori shouldn’t have the bravery to go near Dwalin’s mouth, let alone touch it. 

“Don’t,” Nori says, and his mouth twists again harshly. His hand slides down from Dwalin’s mouth to rest against his broad chest, right above where his heart is beating unsteadily in his chest. “Don’t apologize! You were going to try and drink my blood!”

“No,” Dwalin argues, because even if that’s the truth, he’s never going to admit to it. He’s tried so hard to make proper headway with Nori, he’s not going to go ahead and do something stupid like tell the truth. “I would _never_ hurt you. I’m not a monster, Nori.”

“No, perhaps you’re not,” Nori says in a wondering voice. He looks at Dwalin with a calculated gaze, and then he’s moving before Dwalin can even wrap his mind around it. 

He’s not pulling a weapon against Dwalin, though – not unless the weapon is himself. For he’s not doing anything to hurt Dwalin, but instead he’s stepping even closer, rising up on his tip-toes and he’s pressing his mouth against Dwalin’s. Dwalin freezes before his mind suddenly kicks into gear, and even though this might be the stamp of death against him, he can’t help himself. His soulmate is finally reciprocating _something_ for him, and Dwalin can’t bring himself to push it away. Instead, he winds his arms around Nori’s waist and draws him even closer, deepening the kiss. 

The action might be his last, but at least he’ll leave this world with no regrets. 

“Nori,” he murmurs, pulling away to look down at Nori’s face. His lips are reddened, as is his chin from Dwalin’s beard, and his eyes flutter open to meet Dwalin’s probing gaze. He doesn’t pull away and so Dwalin leans in, and kisses him again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i currently have six weeks off from work since it's summer vacay and it's my #summergoals to finish this fic for anyone who is still interested in it. also, i don't have a beta so all mistakes are my own!

Nori has been running since he was twenty-two years old, but in this moment, with Dwalin’s arm around his waist and their lips pressed together… Nori feels like he is home.

He’s an idiot, though, and so he forces himself to wrench away. His mind feels pleasantly hazy, and he feels light-weighted, like he’s floating on air. Dwalin’s kiss has injected some sort of drug into him, for Nori has always been practical minded and hasn’t ever let his stupid heart overrule his perfectly good senses. And that was just with regular boys of the world, that wasn’t even taking into account of his supernatural, super creepy soulmate.

“Stop, we can’t do this,” Nori says, glaring over at Dwalin. Damn him for confusing Nori.

“You’re the one who kissed me,” Dwalin rumbles, and he’s reaching out towards Nori again. “Tell me why we can’t do this.”

“I need to kill you before you kill me,” Nori says, although Dwalin has never showed a tendency of violence towards him. If anything, Dwalin has always spoken on how he will be the first to defend Nori, and Nori’s even seen it in action a few times.

“I told you the first time I clapped eyes on you that I would never hurt you,” Dwalin says, shaking his head. “You are a part of my clan, Nori. If you were only to realize this, you would be able to stop running. You would be able to come home… to Dori and Ori, your brothers. You’d be able to come home to _me_.”

Nori stops at that, and a wicked little idea begins to take place in his mind. He knows that it would be wrong to use their bond against Dwalin for a second time, but if it means that he can see Ori again… he’d be an idiot _not_ to do it. Dwalin has just confirmed the biggest question in his mind, the status of Dori and if he is still alive. That shows some restraint on Ori’s part, and perhaps there is a chance to save his brother yet.

“Ori’s alive?” He asks, his voice tremulous. He has burnt Dwalin before, and he knows the older vampire will be a lot more resistant this time around. He is going to have to stretch himself as far as he can in order to convince Dwalin that there is a chance that Nori has changed his mind, and that Nori wants a future with him. “My brother is alive?”

“Ori is alive and well,” Dwalin confirms, and he’s sliding an arm around Nori’s waist before Nori even realized he was close enough to do it. He’s going to have to work extra hard at staying focused, because there’s something distracting about Dwalin’s presence that wasn’t there before.

When they were holed up in Dwalin’s home to try and rescue Ori, Dwalin had stayed close to him, but always remained a respectable distance away from him. Their conversations had been stilted and guarded, but Nori had never been tempted to lean against his broad chest and let Dwalin anchor him close. Somehow, in between the seven months that has passed, Dwalin has learned to use the full extent of his power against Nori, and that is dangerous indeed.

“He survived the transformation then,” Nori says, and he doesn’t have to pretend here, there’s more than enough genuine disgust bleeding through his tone. “He’s become a monster then, just like the rest of you. I knew rooming with that good for nothing brat would lead to something like this.”

“Bullshit,” Dwalin says, but there’s no heat in his tone. Instead, he sounds bemused, and that only serves to irritate Nori further. “You had no idea that Kili would get tangled up in the supernatural world. If anything, you probably vetted each flatmate that Ori considered and settled on Kili, because you figured he had the _least_ chance to get involved with the world you were desperate to keep hidden from Ori.”

It strikes so close to the truth that Nori flinches against Dwalin. “What of Dori,” he demands, changing the subject. “Have you all drained him dry and left him for dead yet?”

“Of course not.” Now there’s a slight sharpness to Dwalin’s voice that was not there before. He seems protective over Dori, which is actually kind of sweet. “Dori is a part of our family now, just like Ori. When we made the decision to save Ori, Balin turned him. It is our responsibility to guide him in this world, and ensure that he doesn’t ever do anything he will regret. Dori has been right there alongside us, guiding Ori.”

Both his brothers are doing well, and Nori’s stomach begins to hurt. They probably don’t even miss him, or at least Dori doesn’t. This is probably the angle that Dori was gunning for all along – he’s always wanted Nori out of their lives and away from precious Ori. 

Now that he’s got that, he’ll never let Nori in close again.

“I’m… glad to hear that,” Nori says, and he ducks away from Dwalin, putting distance between them again. He needs to stay close to Dwalin so he can actually get close to Ori, but now he’s not so certain. Dori will never allow it, and Ori’s not typically the type that will do anything that Dori disapproves of. The overwhelming guilt he had suffered for months when he moved in with Kili had been enough to convince Nori of that.

Dwalin suddenly narrows his gaze, and fixes his pale eyes on Nori. “How did you find us here?” He asks, and he’s suddenly glancing over his shoulder.

It makes Nori want to laugh, because if this was an ambush, if he had really wanted to lure Dwalin into this back alley to kill him, he wouldn’t have stood around for fifteen minutes now!

“How did you find us?” Dwalin demands again, and his hands are clenching into defensive fists. “We have done our best to erase our presence from this world, Nori. You shouldn’t have been able to track us down… although you were always better than the average hunter.” There’s a slight tilt to his lips, almost reluctant, like he hates to give Nori credit for something he despises so thoroughly.

Nori’s not an idiot, and he’s not going to tell Dwalin that it was actually Ori’s fault that he was able to find them. If he plays his cards right, he will see Ori for himself soon enough, and he’ll be able to smack his brother upside the head. He needs to learn how to be more discreet on the internet.

“Just followed a lead,” is what he actually replies with, and he takes another step back. “Before you assume, the Company isn’t here. I’m here alone.”

Dwalin studies him for a moment. “Why should I believe that? You have always worked with them in the best, and despite our best efforts, you have always proven to be a formidable enemy, Nori.”

Nori resists the urge to preen that that, since there is no glory in his former life anymore. The Company wants him dead, and he can hardly blame them. If the roles were reversed, he would have wanted them dead as well. He’s a staunch believer in keeping to the codes and to the traditions, and Nori has broken them – Nori has _shattered_ them.

“The Company wants me dead, probably more than your vampire friends do,” he admits, because there’s really no harm in admitting that. “They believe that those who are turned into vampires… it’s usually done without their consent, and so killing them is really an act of mercy. They’re saving them from a life of damnation.” The words fall from his lips like habit, and it makes his heart clench in his chest to know that that part of his life is over, for Nori will never be able to hunt vampires again.

He is too well known.

“And if a human chooses to be with a supernatural creature, then that is even worse,” Dwalin summarizes, and Nori is impressed with how quickly he catches on. He calls Dwalin an idiot all the time, but that’s not really the case.

“Correct,” he confirms. “The Company has no idea where I am, I have painstakingly erased my history, and I live my life under a different identity now.”

“Then let me keep you safe,” Dwalin implores, and Nori hates how he always makes it seem so simple, since he knows it’s never actually that way. “Come home with me, and you can be reunited with your brothers once more. I know Ori has missed you… he has adjusted to this life exceptionally well, but there are parts of him that are missing. There is a hole in Ori’s heart, and that’s a very dangerous thing, for that makes a vampire unstable. And an unstable vampire is a dangerous one.”

Nori’s breath quickens involuntary at that admission.

“You are that missing piece in Ori’s life,” Dwalin continues, and his voice has dropped lower on the register. It sounds like molten honey, pouring slowly over Nori’s ears. “You are the last piece he needs to complete his life, and to deny him that… you are damning him to a life of danger. I know that’s not what you want for your brother, Nori. I know you love Ori, and you’d do anything to save him. I saw how you fled from me, just because you couldn’t sit back and know that he was in trouble. It’s in your nature as his big brother to rescue him, and right now… he needs your rescuing.”

“Fuck,” Nori gasps out wetly, and he hadn’t even realized that he had started to cry. He scrubs at his eyes and glares at Dwalin. “Stop doing that!”

“Sorry,” Dwalin says, but he doesn’t sound very sorry about it. “What do you say, Nori? Should we leave this alley way and go back home? Would you like to see your brothers again?”

 _Yes_ , his heart replies instantly, but Nori’s mind has always been quicker than his heart, and he is not going to bend so easily. Not until he is sure that safety lies that way for him, for if Ori is alive in this world, then Nori does not want to leave it just yet. His brother needs him, and Dwalin is right – it is written on Nori’s very bones to protect his little gem.

“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I need time, I need to think.”

“All right,” Dwalin says, surprising him. The smile he gives Nori is a gentle one. “I will respect that. How can I be in contact with you?”

Nori isn’t a fool, and he isn’t about to give Dwalin _any_ of his personal information. “I’ll meet you outside the library tomorrow, around ten o’clock,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Will you be there? Will you meet me there, Dwalin?”

“Yes,” comes the reply, fast and easy.

Idiot.

“Perfect,” Nori says, beginning to walk away backwards so he can keep his gaze focused on Dwalin. He still doesn’t trust him yet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” echoes back, but Nori’s darting into the back door of a restaurant, and disappears before Dwalin can even realize just exactly what he’s agreed to.

***

He doesn’t sleep that night. He lies awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling as his mind races, playing out every possible scenario. He doesn’t think it’s safe for him to see Dwalin again, but he needs to see this through. He has no life right now, all he’s doing is wasting time until he either grows old and dies, or an enemy catches up to him and puts him down.

Does it really matter if it’s a vampire rather than a hunter?

He wishes he had someone to talk to, someone that he could rely on to speak honestly to him, someone that wouldn’t try to twist him for their own purposes. It’s strange, but in this moment, he misses Gimli. The younger hunter had always been frank and honest to a fault, a refreshing change from the usual hunter that was constantly spinning tall tales.

He sits up in his bed and opens his laptop. It’s been over half a year since he’s been on the run, and while he knows that grudges can run deep, he doesn’t think that the Company is necessarily seeking him as much as they were before. If he was to stumble upon them, then he knows that they would kill him, but he’s most likely no longer their priority.

It’s probably a false sense of security that he’s lulling himself into, and extremely foolish and stupid, but Nori is beyond caring right now. He pulls up the internet and connects through his neighbor’s WiFi that’s unlocked, and he knows that it’s because it’s a little old lady with a walker that doesn’t know any better. There’s nothing new in his email that wasn’t there the last time he checked it in Paris, and he hesitates before he opens a secure connection and composes a new email.

_You’ve always been honest with me, Gimli, and I’m in need of that once more. I find myself constantly lost, and I don’t know where I should go anymore. I have lost my entire family to everything I’ve ever grown to hate. I sought them out with the purpose to kill them all, to save them from this hell they’ve chosen, but in the end… I am weak, Gimli. I don’t think I can do it, and I think I need your help._

_I am compromised, and I am wise enough to know that. I need you to do what I cannot, and that is kill Dwalin. I think without his influence, I will be able to live a clearer life. I don’t have a wish for death, but if putting Dwalin, and Ori down, then perhaps I need to die as well. Can you come, Gimli? Can you come and do what I cannot?_

He hits send before he lets himself over-think it. He wants to see his brothers, but he’s so lost. He doesn’t know the right answer. Does he give up his entire belief system for a fuck? That’s what it comes down to – if he was really honest with himself, everything that’s happened has less to do with his brothers and more with Dwalin. He’s drawn to the vampire, most likely due to the bond, but he doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to do.

Nori didn’t become a vampire hunter because it was easy money, or something fun to do in his spare time. Nori dedicated his entire adulthood to slay monsters of the supernatural world because he genuinely believes they’re evil. It’s damning to the human soul, and while Nori has never believed in religion, he’s believed in good versus evil, and it doesn’t take a genius to say which side the vampires fall on.

He logs off and closes his laptop, sliding it on to the night stand beside his single bed. He lays back down and rolls on to his side, directing his gaze out the window. He lives up on the fifth floor, and is high enough that he can overlook the buildings. Instead, his view is the twinkling lights of the city before it turns dark out over the open water.

He’s going to have to make a decision with Dwalin, and he’s going to have to make it tomorrow. He can continue believing that it’s some war in his head, but at the end of the day, Nori knows his answer. He wants to see Ori again, even if it makes Dori spitting mad. _Especially_ if it makes Dori spitting mad! He’s missed his little gem, and he needs to make sure with his own eyes that Ori isn’t a threat to society. It doesn’t change anything, he’s still a monster, but it will give Nori peace to know that his brother hasn’t killed anyone innocent.

Somewhere, between waffling about whether or not he made the right decision in contacting Gimli, he falls asleep, and doesn’t wake until dawn has bled thoroughly throughout the sky. His phone tells him that it’s just after nine, and he’s going to have to hurry if it means reaching the library by ten.

He showers quickly, throwing his damp hair into a braid and then winding it up into a bun. He wears jeans and a zip-up hoodie, his feet in his boots, and he throws a leather jacket on over-top. He gets to the library just shortly after ten, and there’s Dwalin leaning against the wall, holding a book in front of himself, but he glances up more at the street than he does at the pages.

Nori takes a deep breath and heads towards him. He needs to see this through, whatever is going to happen. Whether he ends up killing Dwalin himself, or Dwalin killing him… either way it’s going to end in blood shed, and Nori just needs to stay committed to the plan.

“Let’s go to Ori,” he says, keeping his distance from Dwalin. He can’t afford to kiss him again, not when it makes his head feel all fuzzy.

Dwalin barks out a laugh. “All right, let’s go,” he says, and he begins walking.

Nori glances at him and then falls into step slightly behind him. Dwalin must be over his fear that Nori’s going to attack him, because he doesn’t glance over his shoulder to see if Nori’s got a weapon or not. Instead, he just trudges down the sidewalk, and Nori has to double his pace to keep up with him.

It’s silent as they walk a few blocks, and then Dwalin turns and disappears into the entrance of the Four Seasons Hotel. Nori’s eyebrows shoot up before he can stop himself, and he curiously follows him inside. Why would Dwalin lead him to a hotel? Have they been living in a hotel this entire time, or did he perhaps bring Ori here to meet Nori, somewhere neutral? It’s an awfully fancy hotel, and Nori resists the urge to whistle lowly. He loves luxurious things, and this hotel is nicer than the usual ones he stays in.

Dwalin must already have a room, because he doesn’t stop at the front desk. Instead, he gets into the elevator, and so Nori follows in after him. It’s another sign that Ori is here, because they must have previously checked in before Nori showed up this morning, and after seven months, Nori is finally going to see his brother again.

They go up to the twenty-second floor, and then Dwalin pulls a key card out of his pocket. He swipes it through a door and the green light flashes, allowing him to twist the handle and push the door open. Nori eagerly follows Dwalin inside of the room, and in his haste to see his brother, he doesn’t even acknowledge the click of the door until suddenly he realizes that not only is Dwalin behind him, guarding the door, but the room is completely empty.

Snarling, Nori whirls around to face Dwalin, and his hand goes to the waistband of his pants where he had stored a blade. “You lied to me!”

“How have I lied to you?” Dwalin asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “That’s a pretty bold assumption.”

Nori grimaces, hating that he’s allowed Dwalin to lead him somewhere as public as a hotel. He definitely can’t kill Dwalin now, and there’s a small part of him that suddenly regrets reaching out to Gimli. He should have never agreed to come here, he should have just gone back to Cardiff, back to being Norris Bohen.

He had been happy then, or as happy as he could, utterly alone.

“Where’s my brother?” Nori demands, his fingers twitching at his side. He wants to pull his blade, but Dwalin’s strength outmatches his own, and so he needs to be strategic in how they fight. “I expected for Ori to be here.”

“Ori isn’t ready to see you,” Dwalin says, shaking his head. “He’s done really well in controlling himself, but he’s been having some frustrations, and last month he attacked me in anger. He hasn’t hurt Dori, but I’m reluctant to introduce another human to him when he is so volatile.”

“I’m not just some fucking human, I’m his brother,” Nori snaps, and he stalks over to Dwalin, pushing as hard as he can at his shoulder. “Get out of my way, I want to find my brother.”

“You can’t see him yet,” Dwalin insists. “If you’re patient, though, you will, I promise. I have never lied to you before, Nori, and I’m not going to start now.”

“I’m going to find him,” Nori says, because he’s already fucked up, and Gimli is probably on his way here. He _needs_ to see his brother before Gimli comes and puts them all down.

“No, you’re not,” Dwalin counters, and he gives Nori a gentle push away. His gentle motion is still strong, though, and Nori has to reach out and catch himself on the wall before he stumbles over. “We’re going to talk, we sorely need to talk, Nori.”

“I have absolutely nothing to say to you,” Nori says, and he’s done talking about this.

He reaches into his waistband and draws out his blade, fury tightening his features down into a scowl. With a sneer, he whips the blade out to the side, and it elongates to twice its size. Stalking forward with the blade clenched at his side in his right hand, he draws his right arm back. Dwalin’s gaze is on his right arm, and that’s why his left hand is slipping into his pocket, and pulling out another smaller, second blade. Dwalin reaches for his right arm, squeezing the skin, even as he twists his hips to the side and avoids the swing of his left arm, the small blade imbedding into the wall.

“You’re going to make us pay a damage deposit,” Dwalin says in an easy tone, yanking both blades away from Nori and he tosses them aside where they clatter to the floor. He stalks forward and grabs Nori by the collar of his shirt, dragging him forward. “Stop trying to hurt me!”

“I’ll never stop!” Nori gasps out, kicking his feet in an attempt to get away. He hates feeling pinned, it makes his defenses sky rocket. He leans back, closer to the wall, in his attempt to get away.

“At what point are you going to realize that I’m not trying to hurt you?” Dwalin growls, and he tugs Nori away from the wall and closer to his body.

He feels strong and broad against Nori’s body, and he sags at the contact. There’s something about touching Dwalin that causes all of his logic and reason to flee, and he’s left wanting to do something as embarrassing as rub up against him. He hisses out a sharp breath, his left hand snaking around Dwalin’s back and under his jacket, digging his nails into his skin and he scratches down as hard as he can.

He should have known that it wasn’t going to hurt Dwalin, but he didn’t expect the reaction he did receive. Dwalin’s eyes immediately darken, and his grip on Nori loosens as he presses his hips against Nori’s. It’s then that he’s able to feel the long, heated length of him, and rather than be disgusted, Nori finds himself immediately turned on.

“I hate you,” he gasps out, lifting to his tip-toes so he can catch Dwalin’s mouth against his own. He kisses him deeply, curling his tongue around Dwalin’s, pressing as close as he can. He wants to climb Dwalin like a tree. “I hate you so much,” he pants out as Dwalin lifts him up, and he wraps his legs around Dwalin’s waist.

“You don’t, swear you don’t,” Dwalin groans out, and he’s stumbling them over to the bed. He drops Nori down on top of the white, crisp duvet cover and immediately follows him down, careful to hold himself up so he doesn’t squash Nori completely.

“I’ll never tell,” Nori says, even as he’s kissing Dwalin again, his hands going to Dwalin’s jacket and he’s peeling it off of him, tossing it to the floor.

Dwalin breaks the kiss long enough to pull back so he can pull his shirt from his body, and then Nori is left to drink in the gaze of a shirtless Dwalin. His chest is hairy and broad, completely unblemished from scars, unlike Nori’s. He reaches up and runs his hand hesitantly over Dwalin’s skin, and then rears up so he can kiss him again. He can’t stop to think, not when it’s going to make everything hard between them again, and make him want to kill Dwalin.

For once, Nori just wants to lose himself, turn his mind off and not think, and so he does it in the only way he’s ever known how.

“Fuck me, Dwalin,” he says, pulling back so he can lick his lips, meeting Dwalin’s gaze evenly. “If you think you’re up to the challenge, that is.”

Dwalin lets out a startled laugh before it quickly turns into something a little more serious, and he looks into Nori’s eyes. The direct eye contact makes him uncomfortable, and he shifts against the bedding slightly. There’s a little smirk playing at the corner of Dwalin’s lips, and just when Nori is about to retract his offer, Dwalin’s fangs suddenly punch out.

Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ viiiuniverse & twitter @ viiiuniverse3


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